Poem - The ist

He calls names about the other man, comments of his skin,
He reels off words with no substance, with no thoughts and no feelin,
He'll slag off all the gypsies and he's scared of all the blacks,
And the Hindu at the newsagents does terrorists attacks.

He acts the charmer to the women, but slags them off behind their backs,
He says that they are all a pain and that they have caused him cracks,
And he gets jealous of another man, when he see's that he does well,
He'll act like he's an angel until you see that he's in hell.

So keep your eyes and ears open, and know when they pretend,
To respect you and respect folk, they'll act just like a friend,
But when you see their troubled souls, born in a troubled land,
They are yet to feel the things you know, you've got to understand.

They live in fear, I don't know why, it's just the way it is,
But for now we have a problem, that most of us now know exists,
These people need some healing, for they are locked inside their mind,
They actually think they're understanding, of the soul of all mankind.

The have a secret lust for darkness, and a hatred against love,
And all their hurt built up so much they cursed at God above,
But the truth is they're still human, even though they act like twats,
But I do believe deep in there somewhere, is someone that wants to come back.

So as we swiftly firmly let them know, that vampirism isn't right,
And try to wake them up and tell them, that they really do talk shite,
Even though you hate what you don't understand,and it's a shame you're really lost,
I wish you well on this life-changing mission, to walk away from that dull past.



Copyright Ben Westwood 2018

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