Where the Green Grass Grows

I drive through the old money neighborhood

where the green grass grows
where the lawn is perfectly mowed
where the arm candy wives go for their morning jog
their fake tits not bouncing to nor fro

And I wonder, do they know

that perfection doesn’t grow on trees
that the rest of the world is in need
that people are dying in our streets
trapped under rubble, people bleed

I wonder if they know

if they can even conceive
what any of it means
the bumper stickers
and the name brand things
will not hide the stark reality

That no matter how perfect your green grass grows
evil will still knock on your door

Can’t you hear it whispering through the breeze
that’s evil, coming for all

the rich
the poor
you
me

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