Pesticide Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Pesticide



Pesticide

Go spend a moment in busy pharmacy
Open eyes, and ears
Pretend on looking and searching.

“Why the hell? ” You may ask.
Not of them but yourself.
They are sick, lack sleep and whining.

Mostly old, at counter and on cane; are leaning.
“Live like this? ”

It’s your turn at counter
“Pesticide? ”

Tuesday, May 19, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: sympathy
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