Pamela Shea

What’s Next

What’s next, you ask?

Am I up to the task

Of being civil

In an uncivilized world?

I am so tired

Of braggarts and liars.

I make Facebook posts

That others use to boast,

While supposed friends

Make me feel like

A piece of burnt toast.

I’m losing my soul

Sinking into deep holes

Of depression,

Despite victory.

In misery, I am slipping 

Down rabbit holes

That I have visited

In happier times,

While rhymes came to me

On rugged trails.

The world still turns

While I yearn for peace.

Where is the justice

And equality for all?

I fear the task is too tall

For us miserable humans.

My aging body is shrinking,

Rotting bodies are stinking,

Yet I still look for growth

As I dig through manure.