Children of the Phone

Wake me up I must be dreaming,
All I hear are people screaming.
Running Hellbent for their lives,
Mothers, fathers, husbands, wives.

Chased by rabid daughters, sons,
With sharpened knives and loaded guns.
Vengeance towards their harsh demands,
For taking cell phones out of hands.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2023

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace