Englands on fire:
Ashes and anger,
strewn across the only place I’ve known.
I try to stand tall and strong, but I cut my wings off far too long ago.
Rubbed salt into the wound, as history marks this moment into its books. Etched forever.
England is on fire, London Bridge is burning; 1666.
Buried six feet under, but still alive, still scratching.
War doesn’t just change lives,
It changes forever.
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Author:
Georgia Watson (
Offline) - Published: July 18th, 2025 07:02
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 22
- Users favorite of this poem: Priya Tomar, Damaso
Offline)
Comments1
Words from the grave to modern ears. Well written
Thank you. I wrote this after the England vs Sweden game yesterday lmao. It was STRESSFUL watching it
Very nice it just shows how there can be so many takes on a poem and I love when readers get something different than I was thinking when I wrote the piece. You are most welcome
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