Happiness
February 25th, 2009 by 
Michael
Death marches over the field of metal and rubble,
View of destruction and corruption in every angle.
Soft silky sand is stained with the blood of the willed,
Minutes ago the gun shots, bombs, explosions, screams, cries of help filled the air.
They thought they were the superiors of the human race,
Grits and grinds of teeth, shaking legs, nervousness, loss of profit,
Greed.
The battle was merely funded and command by a circle of businessmen,
Their thoughts and opinion were like the words of god.
Meaningless, nothing.
Posted in List Poem #1 | 