Is It Poetry
The enemy is someone they know.
Some one who can then be opposed.
If it is in trust and trust it is them,
great is this force, they will kno.
Thine by his great design or thine are his by desire.
Filled our cities they are just and our people are fair.
And well spoken are our great old Grandfathers.
And tethered our fair land of our dreams and common goals.
Decent folk should have no fear of their threats.
Death is dealt from their own hand of ignorance,
and history is kind which it is, is it not?
Patriots act bravely when ordered they confront.
And scorn is but the grave, that such as they have earned.
Whether by which hand over the land and by sea,
and cruel is their this, mighty sting.
When they have child they have they harmed,
Nursed and hope, take to the air they have wings.
Which when broken they try to heal and repair.
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Edgar Allan Poe
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