Blurred lines
Smearing the faces of men and women
with fists of clay
matted hair; tangled and wild
Struggling to break free of the mold
that binds their splitting ends
spasm and thrash for opposite direction
A live wire, slithering
like a snake through the clay
forging a path
as tears through droughted land.
Roads leading morality
become smeared as the faces
of men and women, who blur the lines
with fists of clay.
Through reddened eyes
forced to see, the filth streaked cheeks
mangled beauty, menacing smiles,
Deceiving.
Bruised and bloodied,
those weary hands,
they grip the lines; slipping, slipping
slowly sinking
into the mold, that hardens quickly
freezing the faces
of men and women
who blurred the lines
in fists of clay.