Why by Regina Kandraska

I hurt, I cry, I die... I march through bloody soil. I try to do what is expected of me - You ridicule and punish those who don't. And so... I go on to hurt and scare and kill. I try to do what is expected of me - You court-martial those who don't. I march through sand and snow... My suffering is slow - I get tired, trying to stay alive. And when the moon is full, against a starless sky, I want to howl, like a wolf, and ask...Why? ~ Copyright © 2008 - Regina Kandraska Published: 11/27/08   ·  Author's Page   ·  Next Poem