Requiem To The News Poem by Stephen Gradwell

Hang myself out on the washing line,
Shake myself down till I feel fine,
All those people who don't exist,
They can't hurt me,
But I'm peeling away.

Threat of a knifing, don't bother me,
Red tape blinding me, bureaucracy,
Empathy, what do you see?
Look at me, judgingly,
All you've done is ensured her death,
Facts and figures, painted over you,
Totally sure? How I envy you,
And I'm peeling away.

Money, kicks it off,
Then we ride it around to a full stop,
Licence to kill, conservatively,
Chance to take our fill, extensively.
Shafts several thousand feet,
People crawling out, then drifting back,
In their hands, they want to go home,
I hate politics, rid us for a fee,
Glad I'm peeling away.

Chopper taking the soldiers off the blade,
Some people, what a charade,
Because this isn't really happening,
Because I'll never know for sure,
So all the guilt subsides,
And I'm revealed as a butterfly...