The Slaughter house
Date: Thursday, 1st May 2008 @ 11:22:44 AM AEST Topic: Sad Poetry
Contributed By: Vic
I was busy whining ‘bout how my food tasted,
When a million others have no food at all.
Everyday on television I watch innocent lives wasted,
One by one, they wither away and fall.
The stench of blood and the unholy sound of guns,
Ring far and wide across the forsaken land.
In the midst of massacre are a handful of priests and nuns,
Looking after the orphans; stretching out a hand.
Why are people so cruel; whatever happened to love?
Helplessly I watch this insanity with a watery eye.
If God was witnessing this gruesome act from above,
It would hurt Him enough, to make a hundred suns cry.
This poem is Copyright © Vic
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