Into the pocket <br />falls a tentative hand; <br />the first time rattles the nerves <br />like a dilapitated birdcage. <br /> <br />The canary breathes it's final breath <br /> <br />as from behind a shoulder, <br />an inquisitive stare warps slowly <br />into vehement brutality. <br /> <br />A sinless mass emerges, <br />ready to cast the first stone. <br />Righteous fists meet stupefied flesh - <br />The odium of the people. <br /> <br />The illusion of glory fades, <br />as an empty hand clutches the gravel. <br />It begins to rain - <br />a retarded fallacy.<br /><br />Ebenezer Kneller<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/pocket-2/
