Black Thursdays and Sundays,grief filled Mondays
Cannot compare to bullet ridden sons
Bodies laden with roses and barely used guns
They die hoping it was all a phase
Broken and bent,their lives so well spent
Scarlet saliva colours their throats
Too sudden to wonder where it all went
For country and kin,go as you're sent
Flags fly high as the young die
Tears drip a sudden slip,watering gravestones of cold patriot stone
To die in defence of your country is still to die alone
YOU ARE READING
Poetry;my depravity. A manic insanity
PoetryA collection of stuff I've written...maybe not so happy stuff