Suicide Wasteland Poem by Ben Sparaco

In a shallow summer day,
No child left their home to play,
Even birds were left to stay,
A toxic wasteland kept their mask on their face was not to flay,
Bodies lay upon the street beaten and decayed,
A child's tear rolled down his face,
Knowing his home would never be a safe place,
And soon signs of life would have no trace,
And if he stayed he would soon be lying in a case,
Darkness caused them to act out in vain,
So many children were then slain,
Bodies transported as if they were on trains,
And still a single blood dropp had not stained,
Tears fell as if it had rained,
Although he was sad,
The family dead he once had,
He did somthing when he was angry and mad,
And thought of something that made him oh so glad,
And hung from a tree until rope snagged

COPYRIGHT BEN SPARACO POEMS