colonialism

Learn more about other poetry terms

This is War, They said as they dropped drones onto villages and killed grandma who was picking vegetables from her garden, This is War,
She's suicidal,  Finally done, Looking up to their idols, Chest feels like a ton,  Slowly losing vitals, It's no longer fun, The endless cycle. She's not the only one,
The night is soft and pliant in my palms like Silly Putty, traced with finger and newspaper-print. It has imprinted the sound of bells clanging in the forest
Is the fight of black and white, How foolish to be brave when it’s right to be wise;  Is it the atrocity of time or might.   Once strength does not stand the sight of a gunfight,
Cinnamon, Rosemary, Pepper, Nutmeg, Cloves, Aleppo Pepper, Ancho Powder, Cacao Powder, Carribean Spice My blood Runs with the Crucifixtion of those Diamonds and Minerals you wanted.  
Subscribe to colonialism