By Michael Cains.
Locked in our hearts lies brutal pain
Keys are hidden deep in the brain.
Living each day just as we are told
Youth’s lessons pale as we grow old
A dark world sometimes splashed with light
A cold LED glow cannot hide the sight
of the dirt, the filth in the air, and the lies
Death in our homes, with guns and cries.
Young soldiers with orders, all dressed in green
Old men give those orders, seldom are seen.
Guns in schools, or a black neighbourhood
Nothing ever done, even if they could.
Ignore it all – laugh away if you must
Do nothing as you crumble back into dust.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Michael escaped regular employment two years ago, and when not renovating or travelling anywhere with his wife in their Avan campervan, he writes. He never really stopped this since school, receiving frowns for his creative responses to staid organisational communication before finding a niche as a part-time motorsport journalist for fifteen years. He leans towards Speculative Fiction, but will try anything, rediscovering a latent love of poetry and short stories. A novel or three are in progress.