They hide,
Like cowards.
They hide from their prey,
From their predators.
They hide from each other,
And from themselves.
They hurt,
Like monsters.
They hurt others,
Hurt themselves.
They hurt with their words,
And with their weapons.
They kill,
Like murderers.
They kill animals,
For their own needs.
They kill each other,
Just for the enjoyment.
They pretend.
They pretend that they dont hide,
That they dont hurt,
That they dont kill.
Instead,
They blame their problems
on the innocent.
On the ones that heal the
hurting.
The ones that grieve for the
killed.
The ones that find the
hidden.
And the monsters?
The murderers?
The cowards?
They hide in fear.
In fear that they will change.
Change in ways,
That they never seem to understand.
Who are they?
They are you, and me.
They are our teachers,
our parents.
They are businessmen,
Bakers,
Butchers,
And axe men.
We are all pieces
on a gameboard,
awaiting our next turn.
So, choose.
Where wil you move next?
YOU ARE READING
They: A Poem
PoetryHonestly, I don't like this poem very much. I wrote it when I was young, and could probably do my hair better, but, oh well.
