Gloat In The Suffocating Haze Poem by Robert Beksinski

With the necessity of breathe

We become the epitome of suffering

We look through our damaged pupils

To see this wasteland where we sleep

Clouded by a curtain of disbelief

But once the stage is set, the show begins

My bare feet trampling over dried bodies

The filth, poverty, menace, and fellow souls

Everything that is capable in this world

In a field of murdered ideas

I can’t live like this

With no purpose and doomed to be like the rest

I see the worst in them all

And I suffer for it

The curtain is always open for me

But I’m tired of this play

Prove to me and test your worth

To give me life, you need to give me…

Something to die for