Mike Smith Poems

The morning air was crisp in my lungs
My mind was prepared to go
The sound of the gun went off
The journey ahead started off slow
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With a stroke of the brush
The artist can bring it to life
All the images we see
Are as sharp as a knife
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I know you will never
Look at me the same
I can see it in your eyes
And I feel the shame
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When you were born
Nothing else seemed to matter
Then my heart was torn
My life couldn’t have been sadder
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From misconception to depression
Hate and all that is lost
War is not the answer
We must end them at any cost
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Time can only tell how the pieces will fall
If they will come together or spread apart
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Nepotism is the cause of socialism
All our young men end up in prison
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What happens when?
You have more past then you have future
Should you live differently
More cautious or carefree
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The clouds whisper over the horizon
Sunlight fills them through and through
What are we doing to help make sure
Our grandchildren will have the same view
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