Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Let’s talk of love, Of sunsets, And peace, Let’s talk of roses And romance, And full glasses of champagne. Let’s, Talk of joy And having a baby, And windchimes, And feasts, And, Well, Anything. But let’s not talk of hate, Or war Or crimson rivers; Wounds crackling with pus, Popping scabs, The sizzling gashes on my face. Don’t speak of lost soldiers with forgotten limbs. Don’t think, Of discrimination, And sorrow, And divided skin. Don’t waste a single breath On misfits, Outcasts, Or widows. Ignore conversing about infants Left in the gutter, Or orphans without arms, Or bombings, Or fire in the streets. Don’t mention parents Who **** their children. I don’t want to know About ****** Trauma, And **** Don’t look at the spires Constructed of bodies, With insects crawling out holes, And eating out frowns. Absolutely never speak, Of anger and sadness And anything in between. Why bother with illness Of mind, Body, Spirit. Forget about the times When liberty bled. That’s not on my conscience. Why mention families, Torn, Apart. Why speak of agony, And brokenness, And death? Don’t speak, Of suffering At all. But let’s talk, About anything, And everything, Anything at all. As long As it’s not, You.
0
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 11:14 AM UTC
Let's Talk
Let’s talk of love, Of sunsets, And peace, Let’s talk of roses And romance, And full glasses of champagne. Let’s, Talk of joy And having a baby, And windchimes, And feasts, And, Well, Anything. But let’s not talk of hate, Or war Or crimson rivers; Wounds crackling with pus, Popping scabs, The sizzling gashes on my face. Don’t speak of lost soldiers with forgotten limbs. Don’t think, Of discrimination, And sorrow, And divided skin. Don’t waste a single breath On misfits, Outcasts, Or widows. Ignore conversing about infants Left in the gutter, Or orphans without arms, Or bombings, Or fire in the streets. Don’t mention parents Who **** their children. I don’t want to know About ****** Trauma, And **** Don’t look at the spires Constructed of bodies, With insects crawling out holes, And eating out frowns. Absolutely never speak, Of anger and sadness And anything in between. Why bother with illness Of mind, Body, Spirit. Forget about the times When liberty bled. That’s not on my conscience. Why mention families, Torn, Apart. Why speak of agony, And brokenness, And death? Don’t speak, Of suffering At all. But let’s talk, About anything, And everything, Anything at all. As long As it’s not, You.
nathanael-xavier-hueso
Written by
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 11:14 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem