We Are The Naked Ones.

We are the naked ones.
We are the burned, and
We are the scorned. We are
Your sickness; The poverty that
Bays at your door.
The audacious poppies living lonley in winter.
The empty playgrounds in Spring,
The blackened heels of a dead soilder in summer,
And the stillness in autum.

Hideous, alone and alive,

We are the naked ones.








From the view of children in the Holocaust. I'll probably write this horizontally over whatever painting I do.