Get Your Premium Membership

Pull The Trigger

What is pure Is everything shes stored, In wait of her hero; She waits evermore. Why does it seem the voice Of this Hero is never quite strong enough?? They come and They slash. They cut She bleeds. Dried up Shes done- No love They leave. A new waterfall forms But its not beautiful, no, Nothing to adore When Mother's tears flow- a river cutting its way through the Forest floor. Go ahead. We dont need that forest. Cut. Cut. Cut. Oh yeah, Oil in the ocean? Dig that hole; If there's a spill No worries, we can just go back home. And that white tiger- Beautiful creatures huh? Bet it'd look just SPLENDID Posted above your mantle. Or even better, a rug. Yes rugs are nice. Pull the trigger.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.