We are seated at cardboard tables,
In a house built of grass.
We don't have homes but we have war,
There's no oxygen but there is gas.
Day in day out, it's the same routine -
We lay our lives down for our sons,
Fight battles that will bring us "peace".
But where are you my leader,
Why do you not lift your gun?
And see the flesh at the edge of your barrel,
Begging to see the next rising sun!
Where are you our king?
While we feast upon ourselves-
Because you refuse to feed us,
You keep everything to yourself!
Rise I say rise!
Let's conquer the real foe-
The man dressed in our gold,
The man who took all hope.
Rise I say rise!
Let us spill his blood.
We'll drink wine instead of water,
Make him the trigger of our gun.
And tomorrow will become today,
And tomorrow we'll see the sun.
YOU ARE READING
This Is Surely What I Wanted.(Poetry Book III)
PoetryThis is surely what I wanted, but is it what I needed? "Because to control the dead you have to become the rot, The septic flesh hanging at the aftermath of a gunshot." 3rd Poetry book. Ranked #11 in Dark Poetry - 2019/09/14 Start:19/09/04 End:20/01...
