Truth Poem by Annie Clarke

Upon a vast faraway hill
where a single tree lies
a giant beast grew around
and sang and a dreadful song
of evil masters
and tired out slaves
and sweet little children
that won’t reach old age
Of knives and bombs
neglect and lies
and the worst line be
when all said and done
the truth I only say
and right now all I know
so think aof this sad song
next time you banquet
of all our friends
with nothing a-shelf