Angst

There is so much angst in the world,
Unbridled rage,
Anger without outlet,
Poisoning every well,
It certainly paints a sorry picture,
The worst shades of crimson,
If life do indeed be a game,
Then it’s a bloodsport,

Like toddlers,
We push each other over,
Down on to the oil-drenched sandpit,
Toy soldiers and Raggedy Ann’s,
We tear each other down,
And for what?
To receive a more opulent grave?
In the same grave dirt?