Sacrilege
mercury, and bullets,
the dead dont lie!
the used bear the marks,
on their backs, in their eyes.
and the price of the present,
the childrens' lives.
we bury our dreams
with guns and knives.
the earth weeps for us,
as the sky falls down.
cant see beyond our mouths,
cant hear the sound...
and the tears of the fallen,
stand like puddles of rain.
you can wash your hands,
cant wash off the stain.
we trade pictures of God
for money and dope.
push the helpless to the limit,
and furnish the rope.
never thinking we'll pay
the cost of our sins....
the voices of the children
lost to the ravenous wind!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Added by Poetry Lover
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