Edge of Chaos | Malcolm Gould
Life seemed to be on the edge of chaos
misery was spreading
with the upsurge in gutter poverty
and that haunting stare,
wherever you walked beggars pleading
their will to live receding.
Arriving home one evening, there, sitting
on my porch step, a man,
this was my first impression nearing,
its shape changed before me
coming to a halt, uncertain what to expect
hostility began to detect.
For what seemed like minutes it did not move
then crawled out of view,
cautiously approached, there was a stain
green and foul-smelling
avoiding the substance yet very aware
that it was right there.
Instinct made me turn, feeling a presence,
the mass was at my back,
just managed to escape its fateful grasp
crashing to the flower bed
running from my own house petrified
for me nowhere to hide.
From their desperation they were created
an abominable creation of beasts
mutated by the pollution and poverty
until that moment never seen
just an urban legend until we collided,
my emotions deeply divided.
Illusions gone, discovering it was real not fiction
these predators mutated,
the population grew, it became an affliction
as poverty divided rich from poor
once, like me, human, living with family ties
with all the hidden deceits and lies.
Life was chaos, nights became a fight for our survival.
