The Blight Of Humankind's Hindsight Poem by John Sensele

Children, small homo sapiens specimens
Inserted and inverted into a world of aggravated abandon
At the behest of guilty gangs whose amens
Count for little, brittle spittle at dawns

Dribbled, riddled with rumpus from the start
Children kneeling, reeling, dreaming, screaming
In a vivid voice as a drugged dart
Sharpened by guilt and silt on stilts miming

Suppresses the self concept of a child
Searing asunder any sign of hope scope
Hovering in Hades, lying in wait in the wild
To scupper the solace and succour slope

On which children's cherished choice
Cries, dies and slides into nihilism
Children itching, preaching, searching for a vortex voice
To assure them life matters despite assertive alcoholism

Adults adore at their craving core
Where a child doesn't fit
Despite shouting 'We know the score'
Subjected to arrant abuse, a child metamorphoses into a mental misfit.