The Rooster Poem by James McLain

Do your eyes burn yellow from the sweat?
The stinging thorn of love won't soon forget.
Circled gardens, dreams, seems every path
leads back to where you are, from whence I came.

Maintained wife and playboy kids, facebook pets.
Saving men to bleed on desecrated land.
Being born, before I came, was no safe bet.
Overhead a bullet talking, whispers it's a dream.

Here they come to give up more not ever less.
Hear I am, that rooster others came to crush.
And they have sown and they have sown, enough.