Cold Revolution Poem by David Welch
Cold Revolution
Passion torn without remorse,
screamed in rage, but now I'm hoarse,
frustration hidden, turned to pain,
posters flimsy, fiercely waved.
Causes spend our youthful lust,
for faithless men you dare not trust,
watched my leaders backroom trade,
saw our numbers flux and fade.
Saw two children, both my own,
saw my rage as time on loan,
in backyards saw transcendent me
love suburban-born reality.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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12/29/2025 5:36:09 AM # 1.0.0
