A Thrill – Poem by Mario Vitale

A little birdie told me, hearts and souls are moldy,
Walk with me, talk with me on this journey of doubt,
You’ll question people and you’ll question the drought,
of honesty people lie about, because it’s time to scout,
For people of kindness on earth,
From birth, I think I’ve been cursed
It gets worse, as I rap this verse,
I’m trying to explain how life can be complicated,
Because we’re all intoxicated, muffled in fumes of disease and fleas that cling onto your skin,
Use the energy within, and repel them this is where your journey will begin,
I’ve been searching for a moment or a pin, point in time,
When these rhymes and lines will be classed as divine, as I perfect and refine,
I’m just wondering how many times I can assign the same rhyme, so all sit back with a glass of wine, whilst I intertwine every line, lyrics so evil I’m committing a crime, maybe I’ll get a statue, maybe a shrine, I need to switch it up so let’s all decline, but you’ll remember this verse as one of a kind.

Whilst I’m standing still over this hill, I think of moments in life that gave me a thrill,
But I remembered the pain and I remember the chill,
Of the cold dampened hearts that never seemed to spill,
Love or affection, like it’s protection they need during the question, should I mention, you never gave me attention,
Like the worlds in one convention and I’m stood outside looking in,
I grin, whilst I use these forces buried within, to show people in verse what I mean, before the planet isn’t green, before the seas collapse and wind is no longer a breeze,
We freeze in an ice block, tick Tock, tick Tock we stopped the clock.

But nobody hears me so everyone listen up,
Stop what you’re doing and please raise a cup,
For stopping global warming and extinction of animals, because we’re all valuables on this tiny spec of galaxies,
Yet governments plan strategies, to profit from the tragedies, they keep us all living in fantasies, but strike in catastrophes
So let’s help our families and all become one, before we’ve got none and everything we love and everything we feel is gone,
Putting a bet on the apocalypse, odds are ten to none,
So hold hands with me now let’s rejoice in song!

-by Mario Vitale, Wolcott, CT

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