Justin Short Poems

The princess looks and sees the drips,
Dripping from her lower lip
It flows onto her precious dress,
Her majesty is now a mess
...

Disease dealers
Famine forgers
Fueling fires like fortunes of flint
(Here lies my hero)
...

There lives a man who cannot attain
He can no longer walk and his legs become lame
The legs that won’t work have feet that are bowed
And far to his south are ten broken toes
...

The cutters are plagued by the words that they hear
The closest of kin shouting hatred and fear
The cutters will see only shreds at their veins
They chop as they try to cut out their pain
...

The pained will continue to struggle to breathe
Pushing pollution past whimpering trees
The journey they take on crumbling knees
The chains that they wear are so hard to free
...

The bully gets under your skin
He fights and claws, all with a grin
He’ll shove your face into the mud
He’ll make your new shirt stained with blood
...

The child cries, yet cannot see
Her mother on the balcony
Just one more dose to take away
The pain, abuse, the disarray
...