Marketplace

The world’s a marketplace; a din –
The clamor and cacophony,
Persistent change and novelty,
  That we all live within —
  Within the noise and din.

The world’s a marketplace, and we
Are never really settled in;
We stop, and then begin again,
  In bedlam, dressed like anarchy,
  We’re both restrained and free.

We seek a temporary space
To buy some hope – a word, a kiss —
Our booth to find, somewhere, in this
  Chaotic human race —
  This life, a
  Marketplace

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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