Standing still
Crushed rampaged
metals collide the face
splashed with guts of the
masses Massacras being
routines in all routes the
scenes are blinding
as light flashes
before the eyes
like angry skies
in darker nights
The day is reborn
the face wiped with
cloths of sorrow black
bags already gone but
not forgotten, pardoned
only when the bones have
cracked and the body
can no longer stand the
pain, with holes deep
enough to be filled
by the rain.
So there I was walking on the road and I'm thinking what does it feel like for people to step on you and walk all over you at every turn in your life.. and so I wrote this poem