And in their Pocket, for Company

a poem by tobias kerins, UK

With forefinger resting, just above the lip
A pensive mind, so troubled the brow
Society in trouble, a loss of its grip
To reach this mess, we ask just how

Harmony a trait, of years gone by
Now violence, its ugly head rears
Resigned to things, a solemn sigh
The mind, now full of fears

They venture out, with the world to see
Not knowing, if they’ll return
And in their pocket, for company
A matter, for much concern

With altercation, the tensions rise
The clouds, they do close in
Intent it leads, right from the eyes
And flows, adrenalin

A catch of light, a flash of blade
To ground, a person falls
Try in vain, apply first-aid
But sadly, death it calls

Knives should stay, where they belong
In a kitchen, or place of trade
Help educate, and stop this wrong
Please cease, this knife crusade

The Maltese Falcon Vol IX
Yorkshire People

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