blank out

pretty words on a page don’t fix

the holes in the roof or put

shoes on little feet or feed

the tank of the gas-guzzling machine

that we drive

two cities over

5 days a week

to inject the poisons of society

into our children’s minds

 

war is hell

when you’re a casualty of crimes

committed by pale dictators in suits

who sit behind desks of oak and glass and walls

that are lead-lined to save them from the bombs

they drop on your head

in the name of justice and peace

poverty has a face and

it’s usually mine

 

© Sumayyah Talibah 09 September 2014

 

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