yazarların paylaşmaq istədikləri şeirlər

(kalin: They didn’t know) He lay there, under the Sun Dried blood on his lips, The heat was oppressive. His clothes were dusty, Dark bloches on them. I could see the ants moving, Entering him and exiting him. How I hate this place How I hate the people Who are responsible for all this unbeliavable madness. How I hate myself for volunteering to be here. I watched the ants crawling over the body, I wanted to hate them too, But the hate had to stop somewhere. -Kyle Schlicher, Vietnam war soldier, 1968