deepundergroundpoetry.com
thorns on an unseen rose
dreams fall
from
the sky
like
needle rain
river of
piss
and rage
wet
the pages
of
our history
wisdom blooms
like
hemlock from
the
grave of
Socrates
suicide prescribed
by
the hands
of
a nation
outside our
houses
marching grow
louder
doors, windows
shut,
guns locked,
loaded
for war
are you
ready?
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