WELCOME TO 'OH WELL'

GET OVER IT

I'm crossing the bridge of 'I Couldn't Care Less'

Which leads to the state of 'Get Over It'.

The denizens there have endured duress

They have the look on their faces that says 'I don't give a shit'.

In the realm of 'Oh Well' all is not what it seems

Get Over It wreaks with the stench of the vanquished.

It's the place of forgotten and strived-for dreams

Of no longer caring about being pissed.

The capitol city, 'It Just Doesn't Matter',

Has taken the effort to ensure work days off.

It pockets the income of new denizens anger

Though officials don't care they spend their days jerking off.

A river runs through it filled with bellied up fish

And once colorful birds that lost all their flare.

Folks drink from the water and make carrion a dish

The streets riddled with bodies that no longer care.

It's plain to see that this cities quite bleak

(At least the steady rain washes the excrement away).

There is no chance of survival for the caring and weak

Nor is there room here for laughter and play.

Sufficed to say this is no tourist attraction

As I stare up at the windows of a long abandoned building.

One would think drugs stole this lands satisfaction

To send away hope with those that it's luring.

A dismal reflection this unlighted place

Filled with no sounds, smiles, or delights.

A polished turd indeed is this disgrace

'Get Over It' is filled with silent frights.

By: Charles Poore