I hear the crashes, the bent metal and life,
tragedies spilled into sad domains,
and I hold my heart, for it aches
for all those caught in their own mistakes,
and to see the blood and wasted life so careless,
I question their thoughtless states.
I hear the thuds of blows struck,
the cries of pain and humiliation,
while voices of anger and denial suffocate rooms,
where life hangs on a thread, as darkness consumes,
and sadness and desolation pervade,
this dull bitter life parade.
I hear the bombs, explosions of fate,
tripping wires to annihilate,
blood and dust and dismembered limbs,
innocence, cries the loss of everthing,
so hopeless seems the plight,
so pointless the creed.
I hear the song of the whip-poor-will,
greeting morn with its trill, joyous song,
and wonder what ache this songbird feels,
as trees are lopped and forests denied, just yield,
and skies now filled with darker clouds of day,
a toxic air and smoke inhaled foray.
Did day turn to night,
is this a dream, a fantasy unwanted,
or am I living in a hell,
where love decides to cower, no words to tell,
and this is what life is, pain and suffering,
for its own sweet sake?
Tony DeLorger © 2016
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