Under the ice
Being lost in a humanity gone madin inhumanity is like being buried
in an ice sea cold under the ice,
while you know better than humanity
but cannot voice it, that it's humanity
that should be pitied gone to waste
to gradually bury itself alive
in flooded junk of poisonous pollution,
while a singing voice of beauty has no chance
to get heard at all in all the din of nonsense
and not even noticed in the overwhelming noise,
but it keeps singing on insisting on its beauty;
and when all the world of junk is dead
there will still be one voice of beauty singing all alone.
Poetry by Laila Roth
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Written on 2016-10-28 at 19:31
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