The News
The News
They said
There is this dread growing in my head
A fifty percent chance of being dead
No remedy but to cut it out
Squirming in my chair I scream and shout
In my silent parade
I am forced to act and play
That all is ok-
Hearing loss will be part of the cost
It makes sense all of this suspense
I am alive to share
The news and despair-
Photo: The removal, Azarel
👁 2💬 2
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (2)
Log in to leave a comment.