Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2019
Your blue blood veins,
red, white, blue stains,
mind closed just like your borders.

Despite the wars,
the foreign and poor,
are given their marching orders.

Diversity,
you just don't see,
is what makes the world so great.

'The futures white, see',
'In good old Blighty',
you bleat as you close the gates.
Written by
M  36/M
(36/M)   
820
     Bogdan Dragos and A Slow Heyoka
Please log in to view and add comments on poems