Vote With A Bullet

When the pops stop,
and all goes silent,
except the faint sounds of,
crying.

When the masses scatter,
to escape what’s coming,
they run to keep from,
dying.

When the world’s cold,
and no one cares,
to see if anyone’s,
surviving.

When all the talk,
is about the guns,
it feels like nobody’s,
tying.

When life is measured,
by numbers of votes,
we must ask who’s,
buying.

If you enjoyed this you should check out these other great poems!

Eternity Unfurled

Forgive Us Our Trespasses

Poetry Classics: Advice To A Son, By Ernest Hemingway

Published by Caleb James

Caleb is a freelance writer, aspiring novelist, and an avid reader. He is the creator of DPW and enjoys editing and helping other writers with their work. When he's not writing and sipping fine whiskey he can be found at the gym, hiking in the woods, or spending time with crazy Siberian husky Nitro. View all posts by Caleb James