Eastward Toward The Dying Son


We are brother in faith

yet we demolish the fabric of our very religion

and this glorified arms race

Reminds us only of our various regions

we choose to claim superiority

in hopes that one of us exceeds the others

yet we don't take the time to truly adore Thee

our hearts beat for no reason but to bury our brothers

all life taken from this hatred

in the end will never be revoked

everything a hope to be reanimated

buying time in this war we've toked

all these sons whose lives have been taken

their mothers will drift off crying, for their children will never awaken



I wrote this poem when I was tenth grade on a school bus heading to an aeronautics museum in San Diego.

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