[saydubya]

In history lessons back in school,
She learned of empires and colonial power,
She wondered aloud, "whats so different now?"
Except media villains pumping us to be proud.

She felt nine eleven,
Disgusted by the scenes,
She witnessed natural disasters,
Wrecking christmas dreams.

She couldn't stop atrocity,
She couldn't make believe,
Another broken promise.
Another battered legacy.

She never wore rose glasses,
Never buried her head in sand,
But people always punished her
Because she was ashamed of them.

They televise their dirty battles puffing out their chests,
They talk with louder voices to drown out the screams,
There was a coldness in the imagery flashing on her box,
As if she could feel the body count going up and up and up.
She thought their war should be filmed in the reflections of innocent pools of blood
Like fireworks shimmering across the lake in November.

She couldn't be persuaded,
She took no more joy from life,
And the world whizzed past her window,
Till she found the courage to die.

[DarkPower]

I love the poem...The tittle is very catching... Keep it up I would love to read anything else writen by you.Welcome to storiesmania