Bloody Rivers

Bad men come, 
Bad men come ,
Machete, 
machete, 
run,
run,
Run.

The screams,
the hacks, 
the blade, 
the axe.
The cold hard facts .
The west reacts.

and for a moment we stop sipping our tea.

Clear the land, 
a masterplan.
No bullet speed,
enjoy the deed.

Machete come.

And the waves of blood cause only ripples in our little pond.

Bad 
men 
come.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2015

Poem

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