The Guilt
E
Eric Cockrell
0
Altın Yaprak
The guilt we wear
Is silence.
While the world grieves,
Shedding tears of blood.
While the body of the child,
Is buried with the mother.
And hunger haunts
Our sleepless dreams.
While the caskets are counted,
And prayers come too late.
Yet the bus is on time,
And the time clock waits.
While nothing done,
Becomes action by cost.
As images drown
Both memory and names.
The guilt we wear...
Stinks!
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş