Stupid Prizes

In the morning,
you see the corpses
ignoring their children
at the playground.

They used to have
themselves.
Hopes, dreams,
ideas about the future.

Even if those ideas
were just to
party until
a great opportunity
came along.

Their cheeks redden
with embarrassed rage
when they think about
letting this nonsense
(a quick glance up
from their phone
at a joyous child)
happen with
the wrong guy.

These self-inflicted wounds
always seem
the longest
to heal.

It walks over
with a flower.

A selfish, sad smile.

-GD Butler

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