"therir" poems
Unimaginable torture and sorrow engulfs our minds,
We lead ourselves astray from the road less taken,
Afraid of what can happen,
This is how you make your fate,
Singling out the wise and murdering the ignorant,
Those in power abuse,
Those who are weak lose,
Darwin called this 'Survival of the Fittest',
I call this hell,
Men on TV in suits talk about obstacles they have never endured,
pain they've never felt.
For they commute back to therir no worry paradise while we struggle,
STRUGGLE- hmmm almost sounds amusing,
We are conceived, we learn, and we fade.
No one remembers us on days of no importance.
This is America, land of the free, home of the brave,
Home.
Four letter word meaning place of comfort,
But is it truly?
We live, laugh, and love.
We fight for our lives,
Stand up for liberty,
And pursue happiness,
yet that happiness comes with a final price.
Death.
Aug 25, 2010
Aug 25, 2010 at 4:59 PM UTC
They were four teens
Chosen by pure luck
They were to fight
Against the sunlight dark.
When War came to us,
They messed up every side.
No bullets dared to work
No tanks could ever ride.
Oh, Disease, they cured it,
The spells they use are mighty.
All people got through unhurt
And those teens are guilty.
Then it was famine who came.
But teens still found food.
They d split it wisely,
And cities stand and stood.
Those four tricked even Death
What else is there to say.
They've crafted many dolls.
And only fake lifes it took away.
But the reason for them
To give world life and independence
Was that they can't let it go
No, not until the have therir vengeance
May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017 at 2:03 PM UTC