Who will hold me, or love me;
When the nights are so cold?
Who will guard me; or save me;
From being stolen; or sold?
Who will kiss me goodnight;
Or take my mushed up heart;
Knead it, and form it;
Into a great work of art?
Where’s the safe; where’s the crime?
Where’s our shelter to save us?
Huddle into a corner;
And pray that He takes us.
I clutch to my bible;
For it’s all that remains.
My clothes have been taken;
All they’ve left me was pain.
I’m sick of the murder;
The smell of burning flesh.
I’m tired of listening
To the screams of the dead.
They say blood, sweat, and tears;
Are what build an empire.
But who’s accomplishment is this?
Who’s filthy desire?
Power hungry; driven mad.
And we’re all forced to hide.
There’s no choice in the matter;
It’s stay silent; or die.
YOU ARE READING
And now for a moment of wisdom
PoetryTis Poetry. The love of my life, the only life I've ever had. <3 Love. Hate. Life.