You took my heart and put it in a museum,
Replaced the hangings on the walls
And the coal fired stoves
With microwaves and lies
On the 6 o’clock news.
Even after 6 generations you
Still sound like snakes hissing
With forked tongues.
The rope around my father’s neck
Made from decades of rubbish and dog shit
Left on the streets
Has stolen the ground upon which I stand.
This, is all in the name of land,
Which is now yours.

By | 2018-10-14T16:52:00+00:00 June 28th, 2018|Featured, Poetry|0 Comments

About the Author:

Leave A Comment