Armiens
supposing this mined ground beneath a sky of warheads
and a time of damaged armor that try to evade the point of bayonets
when the planet will be called blood
and seeing that harmony soon gets sick
and walks towards destruction,
strange you not accept that the blades gradually spread the decline
because that's how it is
there's nothing new
it's like a simple and logical game of win and lose
and now it's our turn my love.
Copyright © Marco Chies | Year Posted 2022
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment