This post is a form of catharsis about my bitterness towards bureaucracy. From reading my previous posts many people will know what I am talking about. This is the poem I came up with that represents my state of frustration, based on observations I have made. The title of the poem is the same as the post title.
The cry echoes down the hall,
they can barely crawl.
Just out of the womb,
enter the tomb.
Putting up a fight,
stripped of their rights.
What they lack in years
they show in tears.
Forced against their will,
making themselves ill.
Then those in power!
Faces so sour!
You have pointed the knife,
playing god with life.
Say anything, we are rude,
watching a crumbling childhood.
Within the cry, a voice,
that wants a choice.
Forget the book,
open your eyes, take a look.
To the children of tomorrow,
you have brought sorrow.
Death and destruction,
is your contribution!
The cry echoes down the hall,
they can barely crawl.
Just out of the womb,
enter the tomb.
Putting up a fight,
stripped of their rights.
What they lack in years
they show in tears.
Forced against their will,
making themselves ill.
Then those in power!
Faces so sour!
You have pointed the knife,
playing god with life.
Say anything, we are rude,
watching a crumbling childhood.
Within the cry, a voice,
that wants a choice.
Forget the book,
open your eyes, take a look.
To the children of tomorrow,
you have brought sorrow.
Death and destruction,
is your contribution!
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