My 3rd Poem: THE INJUSTICE OF MY OWN KIND

photo source!
injustice_993685.jpg
I feel the cold bead of sweat Slowly dripping down my foreheadAs the gruesome hands of Trepidation grasp my threat and choke me.

Should I move?.. NO..

I have seen how the blood inside Our fragile bodies can easily Become flowing river with a Simple gash of defiance How A person’s insides can come outside and surcease a life with seconds.

I am only a child. YES.

Bur a youth without innocence, a youth overflowing with nightmares of the harsh reality, you have stolen an adequate childhood. I deserve we ALL deserve.

No. I am not an acuser.

I am merely pointing, pointing out the afflictive truth. Fighting over a piece of land? For what purposes, for a few drops of oil, for construction of those skyscrapers you’re ever proud of.

How pathetic how dare you!

You never think of the consequences of your senseless furor against the one you call your adversary. With your dountless taunting men.

I am nothing more but pitiable soul of a victim amidst this conflagration of injustice.

And as i take doutful and timorous steps, I pray. I pray in desperation of fleeing to a haven brimming with peach. I know I deserve. Haven I often see in the distant deams.

H2
H3
H4
3 columns
2 columns
1 column
Join the conversation now
Logo
Center