You Think It's Funny

The prostitute screams,
bleeding on the streets - wrists slit,
you look – paying no heed,
     – and you think it’s funny?

The drug dealer rides,
telling lies as your child dies
from the addiction the dealer provides,
     – and you think it’s funny?

Why?

Because you can’t see;
you’re caught up in societies greed;
all you care about is me;
     self entitled dreams,
     fantasy,
     just make believe
          – it’s all about me.

When will you realize there is more to life
than materialized possessions
that you can’t take when you’re dead?

When will you understand
that when one is terrorized;
     violently molested,
     murdered without objection,
     raped in the name of love,
     abused because the man could,
     that is isn’t funny:
          for this could be you,
          or the one you love,
          or even your wife.

All that matters in this life,
is for you to think;
     contemplate on the things unseen;
          the struggles of others,
               thinking on those in need
                    instead of your own damn greed.

For the things we see here in this life;
     what we touch,
     taste and breathe,
     they are not what they seem,
     they are but a dream,
     a fraudulent smoke screen,
     that is forcing one to see
          - the self entitled me.

And you think it’s funny...

You think it’s funny? by K. Saitta © 2014, A Walk In Verse