Young souls hide under missile rain
as political figures try to plant flags
upon lands that are not theirs to claim.
To them it's a game, just moving pieces
on a checkered board, grabbing resources
as a reward. Conquest in the name
of filling pockets, only this time
they send rockets filled with humanity’s pain.
A land grab nothing more,
not a care in frozen hearts for
the souls that call this place home,
where over centuries
their ancestors roamed.
There is gold to be made
from those shores
and that gold they want to claim,
as if those lands are not yours.
We see your plight, we argue in spite
of our leaders not listening to our shouts,
the words we fire out. To the world
we hold open arms, put down your weapons,
let us end this all
before even more blood is spilled
and more children fall.
How many innocents have to be killed
before someone calls this what it is?
Another unjust war, how many times?
Displacement of people. War crimes.
lives, too countless, are lost,
when even one
would have been too much.
We are supposed to be advanced
but dollar signs dance across their eyes
and they are so deafened
by the lies they spout
from their blood-soaked mouths.
So we can only cry
as more and more missiles
are fired into the sky.
Thanks for reading
Follow this link for more.
https://linktr.ee/Wordsandfluff
continue to do this.
Peace, Love & Poetry
Kyle
No comments:
Post a Comment