A Poem.
Alive In a Morning on Sunday
Oh why? Why upon the lives of men, women, and children. Screams in the midnight air. Cries through the dense fog in early morning of Sunday. The sun will not rise within the seven of hours. Canon's blasting, gunshots firing. Oh why? Why upon the lives of the unknown souls being taken, lifted, and trapped upon the earth's surface. Free but unwilling to roam beyond the stars. Do I run? No I stand my ground. Do I weep for the dead? No I stay strong and take on this challenging life. Do I give in upon my weakened soul? No because I am alive in this morning on an unimaginable Sunday.
About the Creator
Kayla Roses
I am a writer around the clock which means if I have time to myself you'll catch me writing poems and a novel that I am working on. Writing is my world where I get lost in and hope other people enjoy what I imagine in this brain of mine.
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