The Passerby
He’s not a person of politics, just a passerby, nothing special, he tips his hat and walks right by, completely noticed, unnoticed
He somehow understands
both sides,
“Like little kids they’ll play
Loving, fighting, and waiting,
Living for the experience,
The beauty of imagination” -
To each but the glimpse at a snow globe
Once the maker is bored, it’ll drop,
Cracked with age
Our remains our poured onto tiled fields……
There we laid
Just sun struck and contained
By wasted days of inner love -
Revealed, then degraded
By the devils’ jelous mind frame….
There he was, caught between a forest fire and a tidal wave,
Subjected to such spite and violence,
All the while admiring; keeping his innocence,
You will destroy him, and he will understand,
Because it is he who walks through your war,
With the gull to call himself, not a person of politics,
But just a passerby.
He somehow understands
both sides,
“Like little kids they’ll play
Loving, fighting, and waiting,
Living for the experience,
The beauty of imagination” -
To each but the glimpse at a snow globe
Once the maker is bored, it’ll drop,
Cracked with age
Our remains our poured onto tiled fields……
There we laid
Just sun struck and contained
By wasted days of inner love -
Revealed, then degraded
By the devils’ jelous mind frame….
There he was, caught between a forest fire and a tidal wave,
Subjected to such spite and violence,
All the while admiring; keeping his innocence,
You will destroy him, and he will understand,
Because it is he who walks through your war,
With the gull to call himself, not a person of politics,
But just a passerby.
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