Freedom's Talons
rage wrecked revolutionaries,
burning, self-combust, immoliate...
cant seem to break the damned glass.
the bowl wont fit through the bars!
the groaning child's fingers,
open and close, open and close...
the dry stink whimper and shudder,
the child dies of hunger...
freedom's talons tear at the flesh!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Added by Poetry Lover
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