Thirty Minutes

by Ciaran Burke

Two dark windows to sadness
a smile to bury the pain.
Waiting for the next customer
breathing nicotine to kill time.

Beneath a false identity
fragile truths have hardened
into a life of struggle,
kindness has no trust.

Each call an opportunity
selling a lie, for their pleasure
to pretend for thirty minutes,
they will gladly pay.

Victim, of the culture
you are reduced to flesh,
risking every encounter,
no end, this is the game.

- Ciaran Burke