A Poet Wonders: Why There Is No Peace. Poem by Noorie Ali

A poet wonders: why there is no peace.
in the ninety's why there were no riots, car fights and monstrosity.
there was no such blood bathing in streets, homes or any violent black footsteps,
to be seen anywhere but the fields where sheep were slaughtered.
there were many joyous daffodils in those green fields too, now they seem to have slumped
crying in pain flourishing dry. The word 'Green' seems to have faded along with time all this technology has wrapped all in this thread of closed behind door cube'
this poet wonders if the friend she used to play with a long time ago still exists.
see it's hard to ignore this blazing fire in me; all i wann'a be is free with wings that touch the sky blue and dark.
in the ninety's there was few teenage pregnancy's and less Gay men.
now the world it self seems bent to the bone.
or am i stoned too? ' like those who now smoke Dope or some other drug* which smiles at them and off they go
flying on the next flight up! '
while the poet stays seated and carry's on her wonders
they play away poker in a casino at home.
The poet wonders why are you not sane?