Wednesday, November 30, 2011

squeaky wheels

I am surrounded by
Squeaky wheels
Getting greased with
My blood

But nobody notices my
Pock-marked skin
The barbs of these
Prickly bushes around me
Tear at my skin leave
Noxious residue behind to
Fester until
Coming to a head
Ichor release offends those
Who caused the

Yet those squeaky wheels
Cry out for my blood
Not recognising the
Two way street
That they travel upon

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