Why

Someone once asked me why

I write about things so tragic.

About people's lives flashing by,

And being unfurrled like magic.

About children dying, children killing,

Their little hands armed and willing.

Hate burned into people's hearts,

Tearing our worlds all apart.

Life is a gift from God above,

But only his heart is filled with love.

Man just cannot see,

What this world has come to be.

So here I sit, pen in hand,

Lending a voice to this sad land.

 

         - by Pauline Marie Daley

             September 17th, 2007

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

We each have within us the makings of both saints and monsters, so I believe. To react with one's emotions, without thinking, is what usually turns us cruel. In these later days of my life, I try to always think before acting, and I believe I'm a better person for it.
Your poem is well-written and speaks the truth, Pauline.