Poetry

by Pete Holly

We live,our time,confused
-and so-
Men kill to live-and lies own souls,
To take possession-not difficult to think,
Make's it happen-is only to blink,
Quick like a tiger,Death is surmised,
-for unknown soldiers-
-no tears cried-
and yet the crowd-Stand's Back !
-as if shocked-
When a boy comes home-Dead in a box
Where did he journey-no one knows
and what made him hurry-
To aquire state of bones
Questions endless-answers unfullfilled,
So we that sent him-
Lay beside Graves-Still