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Prick Me
Prick me
Shall I not bleed
Tickle me
Will I not laugh
Poison me
Shall I not die
Wrong me
Shall I not revenge
A young girl
Straps a bomb
Straps it to her tender young body
Walks into a crowd of strangers
And five seconds later
All are bathed in her blood
Bathed in the hate of her fathers
And their fathers before them
Prick me
Shall I not bleed
Children
Who should be playing in schoolyards
Are sitting quietly
As supposed teachers
Fill their minds
Not with stories of hope
But of lies
And anger
To breed yet another generation
Just like themselves
Poison me
Shall I not die
Men board planes
Disguised
Disguised as friends
They laugh with children
With people sitting in the seats next to them
Smiling at those all around them
Knowing that in moments
They shall drag all of them
Drag them down into their world of hate
Wrong me
Shall I not revenge
All of this for what
Who gets to sit on the right hand of God
A God that no longer recognizes your face
Because it is so covered with the blood of others
A God of love
Keeper of all children
Is this the gift you would offer up to Him
Fathers
Kill your children
Save them from becoming the monsters
The monsters that you yourselves have become
It is a far better fate
Than what you are building today
If this seems too cruel to you
You have but three choices
Kill each other
Kill yourselves
Or change
Prick me
Shall I not bleed
Tickle me
God let us all remember how to laugh
Poison me
Shall I not die
Wrong me
Ed Roberts 3/31/02
Shall I not bleed
Tickle me
Will I not laugh
Poison me
Shall I not die
Wrong me
Shall I not revenge
A young girl
Straps a bomb
Straps it to her tender young body
Walks into a crowd of strangers
And five seconds later
All are bathed in her blood
Bathed in the hate of her fathers
And their fathers before them
Prick me
Shall I not bleed
Children
Who should be playing in schoolyards
Are sitting quietly
As supposed teachers
Fill their minds
Not with stories of hope
But of lies
And anger
To breed yet another generation
Just like themselves
Poison me
Shall I not die
Men board planes
Disguised
Disguised as friends
They laugh with children
With people sitting in the seats next to them
Smiling at those all around them
Knowing that in moments
They shall drag all of them
Drag them down into their world of hate
Wrong me
Shall I not revenge
All of this for what
Who gets to sit on the right hand of God
A God that no longer recognizes your face
Because it is so covered with the blood of others
A God of love
Keeper of all children
Is this the gift you would offer up to Him
Fathers
Kill your children
Save them from becoming the monsters
The monsters that you yourselves have become
It is a far better fate
Than what you are building today
If this seems too cruel to you
You have but three choices
Kill each other
Kill yourselves
Or change
Prick me
Shall I not bleed
Tickle me
God let us all remember how to laugh
Poison me
Shall I not die
Wrong me
Ed Roberts 3/31/02
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Prick Me
Prick Me