We Are The Same
Why do we main and kill each other?
Are we not all the same?
Is there a God that applauds bloodshed?
What dark demons keep their souls fed?
A day filled with shame.
A mother loved you, you who would kill.
A mother loved the man whose blood you spill.
So many ways we are the same.
Somehow the truth gets twisted and torn.
Words that drip from mouths of the forlorn.
And in the end who is to blame?
For the Rime Couee contest..
Copyright © Barbara Gorelick