A pressing matters
Ink
Bleeds through the
Thin
Newspaper pages

We read the times
To see
Things we cannot fully
Under-
Stand.

Bullets, they **** off
The page
And into our homes.
Bombs, assassinations, whispering
Drones.

Are we lucky to be
So distant
Or will this create a
Disadvantage?
The streets they are
Cold today,
Perhaps soon to be filled
With righteous panic.

When the clock strikes war
Who
Do you think will be
More prepared?
The violent survive,
So
What of the fair?

A man of war
Holds
Their gun

Like a nuclear warhead
Like an AK
Like a sabre
Like a rock
Like a stick
Like two hands

To protect
What they think
To be

Theirs.