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Mia Jo Poem
The war stains my eyes,
Of unheard screams.
So loud that I think,
My eardrums will bleed.
I'm centered on ground.
The dirt beneath my feet,
The crumbling society.
And the guns taking my seat.
My wife is dearly missed,
Dead or Alive.
If I see her again,
They say "I won't thrive".
A man is a man,
And a gun is a gun,
Be one, which one?
Does it matter if it's gone.
Woman are the weakness,
Yet we fear the enemy's too.
My dearly loved figure,
Will never be figured.
She waits at home,
Or in the ground.
Like a dog at the door.
Missing her husband whose "making her proud",
When I'm only just at war.
The bare minimum,
From an argument,
That shouldn't have started a war.
The bar minimum,
Of disarming,
We realise we are poor.
Poor in memories,
Poor in labour,
Poor in everything the country loved.
Poor in our hearts,
As we pour.
The water from above.
The water of blood.
And tears of innocence.
The tears we could have saved,
Had we not been dismissive.
I hear a mother shouting,
Over her young child's dead body.
"Did this need to happen"
Does everyone feel sorry?
Is everyone mourning,
Or is it only noon.
Is everyone fair?
Or are they too dead to care.
Copyright © Mia Jo | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Mia Jo Poem
My birthday again,
Such a pleasant time.
I watch the clock tick,
And I listen to their rhymes.
No screaming,
No harm.
No nothing, yet everything is present.
Watching me beadily as I unwrap my sadness.
This year will be the happiest,
A box of food that I won't eat,
And a stuffed animal for me to cry into.
Did they forget?
My birthday was weeks ago.
A day by myself.
Sat alone.
A day by myself,
Where I learn to grow.
Grow independent, and strong alone.
Alone.
Alone.
Alone.
I don't wish to be alone,
As I unwrap my gift.
I'm thankful the people have come.
Though I wish they got it right,
That would be so nice.
If they cared for once,
At all.
Happy birthday to me,
They are filled with glee.
But shouldn't I be the one filled with joy?
Copyright © Mia Jo | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Mia Jo Poem
Fears stay forever,
They don't deteriorate like weather.
And I watch them through my foggy window,
And I watch their lies flow.
To grow old is to grow wise,
That's what they said.
But all this talk has gotten to their head,
Presidents and doctors and Gymnasts too,
This wisdom is not enough to mistake you,
They thrive for openings to their neverending fears.
They strive for a open door when they haven't seen one in years.
And though they have no idea.
It's better than to stay and fear.
Everyone feels fear,
As if it has overcome us.
A population not comfortable,
Of confronting what's Infront of us,
Though I see the appeal.
And I watch the little children,
Ride their bikes and splash in the mud,
From my fogged up windowsill.
Copyright © Mia Jo | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Mia Jo Poem
Fears stay forever,
They don't deteriorate like weather.
And I watch the free birds through my foggy window,
And I watch their lives flow.
To grow old is to grow wise,
That's what they said.
Presidents and doctors and Gymnasts too,
This wisdom is not enough to mistake you,
They thrive for openings to their neverending fears.
They strive for a open door when they haven't seen one in years.
And though they have no idea.
It's better than to stay and fear.
Everyone feels fear as if it has overcome us.
Though I see the appeal.
I still see the crow children free as a bird.
From my fogged up windowsill.
Copyright © Mia Jo | Year Posted 2025
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