Sunday’s Poetry Post



We’re all hurled

Into the midst,

A perfect world

Does not exist.


Taught to hate,

Doomed to die.

Our death rate

Has soared sky-high.


We can escape,

Begin the climb.

Build to reshape

Free from crime.


Help to offset

Push and shove.

Do not forget

How to love.




About John Northcutt Young

I write. Remember making-up stories from spelling words in the fifth grade. A journalism degree followed. Thanks for looking.
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