Saturday, October 13, 2012

Blood of Children



 Thinking of Malala Yousufzai


I just can't seem to rid my dreams of visions I've too often seen
A mother throwing rocks to strike a child of one they hate
a woman with her brains blown out for daring to protect herself
a population killed en masse by soulless potentates

I'd love to rip their faces off, these pigs that fill and swill the trough
of "they're not like us, kill them all, they don't deserve our pity"
but then I'd just be one of them; another spiteful stratagem,
another pointless counterpoint that builds walls 'round my city

I'd just as soon have naught to say but all these things won't go away
the helpless and the hopeless always wake me from my sleep
I've tried to stop the armies past and been out gunned and been out crassed
and now they haunt me with their thoughts, black holes I cannot leap

I just can't weep here anymore, I've lost that water, closed that door
there nothing left to show me inhumanity to man
God help me I still feel it burn, too often I am prone to yearn
to find a way to stop this churning vitriol demand

But I get knocked back in my tracks by better men, by louder hacks
and I can hardly breathe sometimes its weight is so complete
I struggle to just put aside the worthlessness I feel inside
and some days I can only cry admitting my defeat


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