Nothing I Can Do?
Excess cries from the swollen bellies of gluttony as denial shows it’s piteous face
In the gleam of the surgeons knife and Society’s sheep nod.
Nod in a bowl of weakness where you don’t swim, you sink to the bottom of
The spineless abyss of no choice, where you don’t have to do anything!
Silver lines the pockets of sculptors working with slabs of low self esteem
And the cronies of addiction applaud to the loss of another soul to the realm
Where is the spine that would hold t