Trapped beneath your armor,
How far from your home have you strayed, my son,
Since our days as farmers,
You brandish your fists to avoid more hurt,
Will explode at a touch,
People may be frightened, but the pain's yours,
As for time, there isn't really that much,
To heal, you must let your defenses down,
The only chance at love,
Life is too short to fill it up with hate,
Try hugs in lieu of shoves.
Does this sound trite?
Sounds better than anger,
Things have never improved in midst of war,
Though troubles are hid amidst the danger.
No comments:
Post a Comment