The Cold Sun

With each bullet I take

I wonder how many lives I save.

Laying on the cold ground

I feel no warmth, hear no sound.

It wasn't bravery, nor anger

just fear for every stranger.


For every person that runs

I wish sympathy from none.

Please, use your voice

make it a powerful pleading noise.

Let the youth live

in a world without the nightmare that digs.


My skin now cold

the red around me grows.

I pray if I do not wake

my soul is for the Lord to take.

But if I am to breathe again, I hope,

will I be able to cope?


I wish for one more hug

one more summer evening lightning bug.

One more minute with who I love

one more time in the house of the dove.

Laying on the seemingly lawless land

from the sun, reaching out, a warm hand.


This poem is about: 
Our world


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