Cold Revolution
Passion torn without remorse
Screamed in rage but now I’m hoarse
Frustration hidden, turned to pain
Posters flimsy, fiercely waved
Causes spend our youthful
For faithless men you dare not trust
Watched our leaders backroom trade
Saw our numbers flux and fade
Saw two children, both my own
Saw my rage as time on loan
In backyards saw transcendent me
Love suburban-born reality.
Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2017
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