A Battle Outside Raging

I stand within these walls of comfort,
Called freedom.
While in every corner of this world,
My siblings die.

Brothers and sisters of earth,
Struggling for hope.
My vagabond mind wanders in circles,
Searching for answers.

Still, questions hang like dead fog,
Which never lifts.
Explosions of pain that ears can hear,
Waking my eyes in morning papers.

Wars giving less than nothing,
Smother my senses in useless regret.
So many feeling so sorry,
Yet simply changing channels.

Compassion being a dirty word,
Those elite few have come to despise.
While walls they've built soon crush them,
Beneath weight of their own insincerity.

Intellectual nitwits,
Unaware of their bottomless ignorance.
Marching beneath a banner of confusion,
They proudly do wave.

All the while chanting,
Let the common ones eat dirt.
As their warm apple pies quietly cool,
On selfish shelves.

As unfortunate mothers loudly weep in despair,
Watching their children expire.
These ones of power do not hear those sounds of death,
Only their greed raging out of control in a battle outside.

© 2003 Robert Willaim Gruhn A.R.R.