Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2014
The bugs don’t disappoint—
their bodies pop as the light-beam snaps
life away. You like it as well
but in the man, shredded by bullets,
on a show watched by millions.
Something within tunes us
to the greatness of others
dying. I know it’s wrong,
but I’m human, and there are bugs.
Written by
Andrew Geary
487
   ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems