poem 122

The child runs laughing around this London park
her mother sits thinking upon this summer bliss

While just in there another genocide coldly planned
it’s kind of funny seeing the two side by side

One is free, the other sublime profit laughing made
murder by fountain pen dressed in oxbridge ties

Today the ministry of war was just simply renamed
still your tailored suits stained with children’s blood

While outside a child runs to his loving mother
in there a fountain pen just signing our lives away