Human beings are sad when thinking of what we do
All of the bad things that we chew through
We can't seem to work things out between ourselves
Without shedding blood and making it worse in the delve
Millions have died on a whim of a dictator
Or that someone's religion we do not savour
If there are aliens looking down on us
They must wonder if we are worth all the fuss
Perhaps our instincts and manner of living
May in the end make us not worth anything except a misgiving.
© Paul Warren Poetry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem