The world now looks on as the war rages.
Bloody steps across human choices.
Each step planned and takes place in stages.
People scream in righteous voices.

An eleven year old boy dies.
A needle hanging from his arm.
Nobody will miss him.

Were we distracted when he cried in pain?

The media has its work cut out.
With visions viewed from every angle.
The truth is viewed with many a doubt.
Bodies in a dirty tangle.

A lonely wife beaten to death.
By a husband she thought she knew.
Another statistic.

In the silence nobody heard her cry.

Victory is their’ proud battle song.
With their marching boots and outstretched hands.
A win will make them proud and strong.
To liberate the barren lands.

Another drunk driver kills four.
Child left alive and orphaned.
Drivers’ license revoked.

What will they tell the child as he grows.

Years from now we will look to the past.
The players on the stage will be new.
Memories faded and truth recast.
Who can tell if it was not true ?

World Health Organisation fears.
Virus killing millions each year.
Only the rich survive.

We live in a cesspool of denial.

The poem above is copyright © Trappernicus 2003; and may not be reproduced without my authorised permission.