Another Sleepless Night Poem by Andrew Matthews

Trying hard to get to sleep
Blaming it on the coffee
again
Thinking of all the lives
all the bombs have ever slain.

Turning over and over
Maybe it's because I'm sober
Maybe it's because I'm insane
Maybe it's all the guilt
that's swirling in a vortex in my brain.

Picking up the pieces of the buildings
destroyed by the Army's and fanatics
Every fragment of brick
makes the people working there sick.
They're sick of picking up the corpse's and the mess
created by suicide bombers and tanks.
The value of life and currency decreases by the day
much to the horror of the leaders and their banks.

Wherever it be Harare, Afganistan or the Gaza strip
There always is and always will be someone
standing over the people with a whip.