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Not my war, not my revolution
echoed my confused and guilty generation
Not my problem, not my headache
those decisions are not mine to make
Not my issues, not my concern
This war we usurp to start and burn
Not my dilemma, not my pickle
I didn't carry the hammer nor sickle
Not my father, not my mother
Why do I need to even bother...
Not my husband, not my wife
I live a quiet and comfortable life
Not my son, not my daughter
I live for the now not the here after
Not my nephew, not my niece
But I want my freedom and peace
Not my grandson, not my granddaughter
I'm too weak, old, and hang-over
Not my friend, not my neighbor
I'm invincible to death's vigor
Not my wake, not my funeral
Apathy flashing on Times Square's mural!
How, much more spilt blood from this ancient hate shall flow to flood?
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Submitted on
July 3, 2009
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