Who Is It
It usually comes bearing the flag of good,
so it can come by either day or night
often without warning.
When you see it,
you will recognize it
but it will not know itself.
It builds armies quickly
and its words are piercing,
it is fast and effective.
Lies are its weapon of choice,
it seeks pain
not victory.
It has no master,
it controls everything it touches,
to the point of destruction.
Fear is its greatest strength
and most miserable weakness,
it is always afraid.
Its sights are narrow;
stubborn will,
a dangerous force.
It is against us,
and yet we support it.
Many times it is us.
Copyright © Keith Baker | Year Posted 2011
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment