The Dinner
In cold and through the swamps,
The thieves are walking, grouped in two,
With chains crawling at their legs,
As if working in muds of sweat.
[IMAGE: https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmbENDAfq8Lgo2QwvvtgMq1zjyAjpbJpPh3dvPtYfK9mwx/prison-fence-219264_640.jpg]
* Image Source
The instant ramen is ready.
It's night. It's raining..
A heavy spoon, and big as a shovel,
Spoons the soup, just in one move,
And gargles it in an instant.
Few have killed,
Few serving terms for a theft, or a dream..
Irrelevant what others did:
Dozed off the rich, or frightened thee poor.
Green and bruised like zombies,
Grimaced from the shoulders, hip and legs,
In the hot bowl of soup, with yellow steams,
A pile of blood, and dreams.
...The Dinner
[IMAGE: https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmNqA765sYuV8nL9MuCv9uvHofC7APZzRwTQC23MUkJGWr/54998_800x0_crop_800x800_2e9c2f649d.jpg]
* Image Source
[IMAGE: https://steemitimages.com/DQmb9i2KiKpKHoj63jj482Z2HpRPSbx1UyAPXrRGYxXzhEj/divider-1024.png]