I picked a dahlia in a public park
Across from dogwood street
There were begonias too
And marigolds
Hydrangeas
Pansies
The trees in the park were tall
Nice and shady beneath it
If you were to stand at the trunk
And look up
It was like the leaves touched the sky
What was it like up there
Was it happier there
Because down where my feet are
Felt like chaos sometimes
There was always people screaming and crying
And guns going off
People fighting other people
For reasons that felt like there wasn't one
Not in the park specifically
But sometimes
Down at the ground
It felt like a battlefield
Where nobody knew what side they're on
It's us against them
But nobody seems to ever know
Where they stand
Or who they should be mad at
The saying
Everyday battles
Comes up thinking about this
And I'm not a soldier
And even soldiers aren't soldiers
Because nobody is born to deal with any kind of battle
Nobody should have to go to war
Be it an official one on the other side of the world
Or just a rumble in the rough part of town
Fighting for
What
What are we fighting for
Why do we have to fight all the damn time
I picked a dahlia in a public park
It was deep red
I stood on the ground under a cottonwood tree
And looked way up
Into the leaves in the sky
And I wonder
How long it'll be
Until I get up there
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Book 5
PoetryThis is the fifth installment in the random poetry compilation. There is no rhyme or reason to the poetry; it all exists together. If you've been here a while, you'll know that after 100 poems, there will be another book. I normally rant about my co...
