How easy
The harsh of
Summer’s warring sun,
How hard it is
For bright stars
To light earths, sight
And nights cool to chill,
Passions fight
How anger throws
Furled fiery fists
And into a reckless fight
Do we slip, and drift
So said are we
Adults said, are we
With no shame or remorse
The shield of
Innocents, then lost?
Maimed and burned by the hot of
Victorious men
No regard for some?
No regard for the dead?
Shame you all
Who answer the call!
And cast the stones
That kill and lash children hiding,
In the broken womb,
of their homes
This entry was posted in poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.