it is not fair to demand

it is not fair to demand
grammatical justice for the poor
nor to insist on their briefness

in all fairness there is no matter
called constant or served
just a clock ticking

looking at the ones lived
is no longer a fashion
better an aid all paid for

better yet an angel
a profit on dead human tales
grinded in war’s depository mills

love is the end the smell of night
rolling like bright lightning
through timed slaughter

Poetry by Bob
Read 281 times
Written on 2016-03-24 at 13:27

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Ashe The PoetBay support member heart!
The last stanza tells it all.