Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, politics, Writing

Jeremy Corbyn, naked and alone.

The sky is falling,
afraid of heights,
her throat is scorched from screams,
by the time her brains
paint the pavement.
Mother May wants to talk about Jeremy Corbyn,
naked and alone.

The floor has cracked,
and ripped rib from rib,
lungs lick the street,
abandoned by air.
Mother May wants to talk about Jeremy Corbyn,
naked and alone.

The dead have risen,
feasting on the remains,
the anthem ignored,
by humanity munching its mess.
Mother May wants to talk about Jeremy Corbyn,
naked and alone.


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