Blood drips from your hands,
You stand where the victor stands.
Was it worth it, worth the death,
Destruction, to your right and left?
Would you have, rather died?
Left someone else to bathe in pride?
Do you need the luxery,
Raid the Capitol's treasury?
A web they span to hide their lies.
A trick of the light in ways.
Jewels on your clothes stained red,
The blood of the childrens drained lives.
You must gt up in the morning,
Their haunting faces in your eyes.
You are the victor but you haven't won.
Copyright © Matthew Boyd-Howey | Year Posted 2012
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
to post a comment