Stranded Ground
There’s no dressing in war
Nor smile at the jaw of discomfort
I have been married to guns and bombs
Inhaling the sweet air of bitterness
Driven by lust for blood and vengeance
Winter has always been in my room
Hidden inside fossils of truth so dark
Circumnavigating through the depths of the hollow space left
Hoping someone would come take a look
At how stranded I am holding grudges with my thoughts
Gwammache Paul
(C) All Rights Reserved. Poem Submitted on 07/13/2020
Poet's note: This poem speaks of the civil war and bandicts attacks on Gbagyi villages in the western World. Nigeria as a battle ground of terror where the Governments who are supposed to protect the citizens end up harming them in the name of greedy and too much power been misused
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