With very few people out there speaking
It makes me wonder how many have prayed
Forgiveness is what I will be seeking
For the apathy that I have displayed
So many have fallen, some who were teens
But after all, death is so depressing
I continue with my daily routines
With the emotions I am suppressing
Now I feel like I am being hunted
I have become prey to my moral sense
With ghosts of the dead I am confronted
That I am uninvolved is a pretense
Thousands die as I watch a news story
My conscience hunts and I am the quarry
© Christopher Chronister. All rights reserved,
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 7:20 PM UTC
With very few people out there speaking
It makes me wonder how many have prayed
Forgiveness is what I will be seeking
For the apathy that I have displayed
So many have fallen, some who were teens
But after all, death is so depressing
I continue with my daily routines
With the emotions I am suppressing
Now I feel like I am being hunted
I have become prey to my moral sense
With ghosts of the dead I am confronted
That I am uninvolved is a pretense
Thousands die as I watch a news story
My conscience hunts and I am the quarry
© Christopher Chronister. All rights reserved,
A sonnet written while I was experiencing guilt over living my "normal" everyday life while people were being killed during the war in Iraq.
Request permission to use this poem