Brother,
It was a thick bottle
The rigid ruthless plug inserted in our behinds
That thing,
That burst our curtains
To expose the filth that was life,
That thing,
That turned our eyes red
With an endless connection of veins
Brother,
Do you remember him say,
cleaning his sweat,
"It is okay, every great man does it.",
Then he paces up and down
Looking for his clothes,
That look. if only he knew that
it hurt
brother,
Then he handed us the brown envelope
the wage of a painful sensation
But tell me brother,
It is wrong?
fending for our empty stomachs?
Is it bad?
Or good in a wrong way