Saturday, 1 December 2012

Morbid, Who Me?

There is a question
I have been asked
now so many times;
I’m always asked
why do I have to
write depressing rhymes?

These people say
that I should write
of pleasant happy things,
Describing pretty
flowers and
the way the songbird sings.

They ask me why
I cannot write
of love and peace and joy,
Portraying laughing
children playing
with a favourite toy.

They say that I
should tell of all
the beauty of this land,
I try to give
my answer but
they do not understand.

The reason is
so clear to me,
why can’t they realise?
I cannot write
these things for then
I would be telling lies.

The sad fact is
this world is full
of hatred, war and pain,
A world in which
the children are
locked up and go insane.

They dug up all
the flowers, shot
the birds out of the sky,
I cannot write
of beauty as
I watch that beauty die.

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