It seemed quiet
Until the bomb dropped
And all was destroyed
Right before my eyes
And there was no fright
Just anger
Could I have fixed it?
Prevented it?
Am I the cause of pain?
Well, actually I don't care.
I can live with this,
This agony.
And for a while,
It'll get better,
And it did.
Until World War II
And the second
Nuclear war began.
My life was a mess,
Again. All good.
Not really.
Now there's been,
Many wars.
And my body aches
From sores.
But all's good.
I've done this before.
Not
I'm too broken
YOU ARE READING
Everything, Nothing
PoetryYour dreams are supposed to give you solace, but what if what followed was filled with pain, desolation, and confusion? You want to do something, but you are clueless. All you know is that everything's wrong, and nothing's right. Enjoy the poetry...
