There is beauty,

There is beauty,

Even in blood and dirt.

But is it enough,

To see it

Hanging by a thread,

Barely alive,

But not yet dead?

Innocent eyes,

So vast and wide

They swallow the skies.

It brings you to tears,

Breaks your heart,

And rips you apart.

An image of truth

Dressed to kill,

Thrill?

In imitation of art.

Make a pledge.

And fool yourself,

It will drag them

Back from the edge.

A trick of the light

Brings a fire fight

Into the front room.

Watch it on widescreen,

Control the scene

With a joy stick.

Another clever trick,

To opiate the masses,

Along with popcorn

And 3D glasses.

In the midst of death

We breathe life.

And from afar,

We create a star,

Out of a poor boy,

Caring for his family

By scouring a waste tip,

For something to bring

A little bit of heaven,

To a world of hell.

Confined to footnotes

Between movie trailers,

And headline makers,

Shining their light,

On the plight

Of unfortunate souls,

Who have no time

To set new life goals,

Or plan elaborate schemes.

But count their dreams

In terms of staying alive,

When the camera

Has gone,

At the end of the telethon

When reality bites.

And you resume

Your after care

Sitting in the armchair,

With a fire fight

On the Xbox.

In a string vest,

Dirty grey underpants

And holes

In your Xmas socks.