Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 23
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
Michael Hole  36/M/Chiang Mai
(36/M/Chiang Mai)   
460
     BR Dragos and A Slow Heyoka
Please log in to view and add comments on poems