Of Face and Phases

People change. The beggars randomly scorn the commoners When refused a beg, And solemnly retreat to their Dejected lives, waiting for another expedition.. The obnoxious fact that Men control their fates, And women control their mates, All are portentous assumptions To relieve the baffled human soul From another. We wish there were trees Huge enough to shadow over our sins, Then perhaps, a certain recluse Cant be blamed, Unless found detained to a bark. When friends are supposed to be friends And enemies the same, There is no difference: As the setting sun puts out the light of the world Technology blooms, like a goblin We seem to be lost in neon lights, Smoke, drugs, parties....panties That is the rarity itself. The odd mother unable to feed her children, The kittens dying under the shade The grandmas and grandpas living like a ghost, alone, for days The sun comes up again, Feeling bright and bringing a 'new day'. Nothing changes The face, maybe, not the phases.