suspicous & green

Putrid taste as when breath whimpers out.

I’m green like my feet,

treason.

Shout it from the trees and

my extra-terrestrial demeanours getting weak.

Shoot to kill like the whispers speak.

I’m green; can’t breathe.

Fruit falls,

can’t begin to explore the west beyond.

Wish I could but I’m green.

Vision blurs while the listeners speak.

Strapped in as the cruel world unfurls before me.

Please,

burn the sheets.

They turned green whilst I died in my sleep.

Good shade I need more fodder for the canons.

Realising that pain isn’t pain till you bleed.

That being said all my blood clots green.

Freedom doesn’t change until it came your way one day,

the blades have been sharper than they were last week.

I’m cut grass,

didn’t really mind about the cut throats.

So,

I choke until my blisters turn green.

Eating what we need to,

too cruel when all the doctors don’t believe you.

Count sheep,

I hope my medicines green.

Doing what we’re asked,

drowning in this cutthroat grass.

While the green old sky remains crushing my feet.