February 20, 2009
More by this author
Born in the fray,
blood puddles, people pray.
Trying to re-attach flesh,
Strings of the harp are being strung,
unraveling of lives begin,
the beating of their hearts match the dark drumming of war beats.
We go to kill them,
even if they are children.
The explosions in their minds,
the withering of hearts,
the erosion of free will.
All started by the rivers of blood.
Pull back the troops to the USA,
pull them,
out of the fray.

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback