The Arena

 The gladiator ring, the audience’s scream
To watch a person cry, to want their blood to fly
The way the people seemed, to enjoy life’s ethereal gleam

And years have not changed a thing, this arena still seems
To be on the freeway, in the gutter on the way
On the internet for spies, on streets were souls die
The audience still yearns, to see others burn
To bet who will first cry, to see life like a fly
To watch, to yell, to send others to death

The arena, though still, the gladiators are real
Who is watched and why; is it only those who die

Copyright by: Sharon Jordan