Beneath The Grumbling Cesspit

Beneath the grumbling cesspit,
we interpret as a life
we hold out our hands
as a begging bowl
for any scrap of comfort
one can discard our way.
We reach out franticly
nudging others off the path
scrambling for that hope
a better life is on its way.

Our nocturnal binge in life’s other side
leaves us harried and unhinged
as we grasp at straws of redemption
among life’s murky underside.
Waking to the tainted fear
everything we have
will be taken from us
during someone else’s nocturnal binge
for their searching hope
of that better life.

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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