Like worms and grubs we suck
the marrow out of life to borrow
an existence thin and transparent.
If you never saw harrowing horrors,
you could guess such rare occurrences
are either fantasy or well-scripted.
We swear an oath to march to
our own drummer. That becomes our snare.
© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013
Written for THE SUNDAY WHIRL – Wordle #106