Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2011
bring guns, bombs too, watch us die two by two, hands can heal ,but stocks can mold and in this another man is sold ,forgotten grass and blue filled sky, as you look into another mans eyes, to watch him wain and fall in vain, and all that was left was a blood colored stain, so the man is gone the machine is done and the world goes marching on.
Beneath my willow weeping
Written by
Beneath my willow weeping  Az
(Az)   
878
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems