Who's beating the drum that makes the weak run?
Who's holding the reins controlling man's pains?
Who's the ultimate masters of this world's disasters?
Does anyone know? Will their face show?
The springs in the clocks have less tension each day.
Fear grows stronger in this world without play.
Mental unrest is the menu for man,
With the threat of World Wars being the plan.
Oil and technology seem to be on the plate.
That may lead man to his own chosen fate.
"Technology has surpassed humanity" said a wise man.
After the nuclear bombs were dropped on Japan.
Vote for this poem
|Please Comment On This Poem