Friday, March 27, 2009

Untilted Political 15 year old

I've got a poem I found that I wrote when I was 15. I guess you'd be able to put it under the "Political Action" category:

Where's your leader?
Where's your martyr?
Where's your savior great?

All made to fool,
To pursue,
To be used as a bait.

What do you owe?
For whom do you work?
Whose gilded feet do you kiss?

The sweat on you brow
Is the heavy reminder
Of the life you lost and, surely, will miss.

To your front,
To your back,
To your right and your left.

Nowhere to run,
Nowhere to hide,
So you give in to your death.

You cover your ears,
You blindfold your eyes,
You don't let anything get in nor out.

You zip up your mouth
And you stifle your heart.
Don't even know what your work is about.

But you don't have to back off.
You don't have to give in.
It's your life don't put a price on it.

So that
Maybe the next generation
Will be a true diverse nation,
No box in which they'll have to fit.

By: Ester

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