If wisdom with
A folded hand
To cup my thought
In silence stands
The mirrored pain
From deepest soul
Grows more distant
Hearts now cold.
The tears left
To freeze in eyes
The hungry child
Capitalism blind
The missiles fly
On metal wings
Injury and flame
Death it brings.
Political statements
Immune to pain
The favour rating
Simple, plain
No voice of anguish
No suffered tone
The limbless children
Orphans alone.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: July 18th, 2026 03:51
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
Offline)
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