Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
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.
0
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 12:18 PM UTC
Thinking of Theirs
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.
Written by
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 12:18 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem