Our Country

We still sit by your graves,
Smelling stench of failure and rage,
It's all starting to consume us,
The world's hate is never put at rest.

Smoke sinks into there lungs,
They just bombed another innocent home,
And as the men head back to their camp,
The world comes crashing down.

A young elagant girl, that of young age,
Witnesses the anger of a father in rage,
And all the rage is directed at mother,
Who never steps up and seems to bother.

He was over the influence,
High grades, that of an exellent student,
Driving home from prom one night,
Hit by a drunk driver right into the headlights.

They make their way,Back into the camp,
Singing dry happy songs, Though their hearts are cold and damp,
The cuffs start to ware, but they are used,
To being beat if they are to refuse.

The world is hateful,
Who says we are right,
No one has strength,
To put up a fight,
Do we stand and watch,
And say we're the best?
When it is our country,
Below all the rest...

-By Lorna Sherwin