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
Recent Comments