By Oliver Plaice, www.PoetryPoem.com/oliverspoems Unlock all Features - Upgrade to Poetry Prime
Amongst the death and anguished cries. Waves lap over board.
Within this night sky heading into a foreign atmosphere that is unforeseen
These unfortunate turnouts who are now exiled onto a new world order
Have little more than their lives to hold onto. They expect more than is on offer.
Which is faith.
As they are hoarded into crowded hen pens not fit for human consumption
The world looks on. Is this what time has brought us to bear, to succumb to?
With slither of knifes upon the robes of death, blood is spilt and flushed away
Down along the Euphrates and through the eyes young children look on
For to them there is no tomorrows, no sunshine or homeland. They need a home.
To wash away the sorrows of yesterdays death and torments. To feel whole again.
Written August 26, 2015
By B. R. Walker
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