The Taste

Sherin, a young non-verbal autistic person, delves deep into the meaning of life, in this inward-looking poem, exclusively for Different Truths.

Two glasses of milk on the table
One a little less, next more
Are the glasses holding
What may flow, evaporate and dry?

Weary like an old fortress.
Guarding every drop from bursting
Into a flash flood
Of fury, rising levels of hatred

Mistrust measuring religion of blood
Spilling over the bunds
Created by hands of doubt.
Less dead float

When spilt milk drowns ants.
There is more sugar, less chocolate
In the withering foundation white.
The taste buds change much

As the taste of being changes.

Photo from the Internet

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