Rachel Peck Poems

Behind pretty smiles
and behind pretty eyes,
she carries her trials
and on no one she relies.
...

We're all born to die,
but where do we go?
Our time is quickly fleeting,
drums march to the grave beating.
...

Your empire was built by robbing from the poor.
Mansions and expensive cars you were secure.
Every Sunday and Wednesday the plates made it around.
Behind the pulpit your critical glare was casted down.
...