Indianapolis Is Burning

The sky is red
The fog is thick
My body buzzes
My mind is sick

Too late to tell
If this is all a dream
I'm constantly grinding
Inside the machine

I'm spinning a web
To catch all my hopes
I'm getting closer
To the end of my rope

No solace found
In this sea of distress
What can I do
To clean up this mess?
Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

Poem

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