Poetry: Damaged by the Coin by Mark McConville



Damaged by the Coin

Love is supposed to bind us
In a world eating its own skin
Dreams are supposed to take us on a safari
Through idyllic moments.
 
The dreams feel heavy
Weighing down the heads of seekers
Who scratch and bite for salvation
They do not know anything more.
 
Their hands are rough
Their minds are shot
They cannot afford to feel
As they count loose change to feed themselves
And the children who don’t deserve such deprivation
They deserve the rich sunshine, and even common bread.
 
They walk through snow in which seems like a winter wonderland
Snow globes are smashed like confetti and snowmen with sinister eyes
Look shifty and alive, more alive than the penniless and those who preach to god
For forgiveness.
 
Beaten down,
They get up and sing a song for unity
Every man has a lyric
Every woman has a chime
They all cut their teeth on the circuit
Of broken glory.
 
This is not a place for the devil
But there are many bad seeds here
Stealing and wiping the smiles off the faces
Of innocent children
Who only want to feel effects of a coal fire
In this frozen landscape.
 
They’re told to move
And they do
Creating a collage of grey
Beards and blocked noses
Men and woman ushering their children
Into the middle point
Where all the warmth is.
 
This may be deprivation
Coursing through the gutters and the veins
It may be the last call for justice by these people
In a city damaged by the coin.
 
And their innocence has brought them together
For the first time.





Mark McConville is a freelance music journalist who has written for many online and print publications. His poetry chapbook Lyrics From The Chamber is available now.

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