Passion torn without remorse,
screamed in rage, but now I’m hoarse,
frustration hidden, turned to pain,
posters flimsy, fiercely waved.
Causes spend our youthful lust
for faithless men you dare not trust,
watched my leaders backroom trade,
saw our numbers flux and fade.
Saw two children, both my own,
saw my rage as time on loan,
in backyards saw transcendent me
love suburban-born reality.
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Author:
David Welch (
Offline) - Published: October 2nd, 2025 20:53
- Comment from author about the poem: Check out my books on Amazon! https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B008RP0672
- Category: Sociopolitical
- Views: 2
Offline)
Comments1
A lovely poem about the reality of politics and our role. Nicely done.
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