Centre circle

Centre Circle.

Grass root grittiness
and fit through boredom.
The shores of this town
are full of them.

They are the workless,
shirtless horses.
Weekend heroes
aspiring to nothing.

Dead end disciples,
with a discipline for resentment,
of any outsider,
outside of the settlement.

An unhealth desire
to keep out the enemy.
Their circles get smaller,
after every Saturday.

'Till nobody visits
and nobody cares,
so they'll turn on themselves
through mis-guided fear.

And then opposite sides
of the town at war,
a constant reminder,
there's nothing to do.

And boundaries and friendships
on the retreat,
as fighting occurs
each side of the street.

Neighbours' become victims;
friends become foes,
re-inforcing their belief
of where they can't go.

So to follow this through
its illogical tree
I can never like you,
because you are not me.

jjbhughes2001