Protest day: The fingers

The fingers
On the hands
Of the tentacles
Of evil
Never stop growing
Even if you
Bomb the hell out of them
From an underground root
They start again
You may be
Eating your picnic
On the grass
In a public park
When you feel touched
By something evil
That you can’t even see
Every one
Needs protection
In the time
Of a virus
In these times of plague
No ones free

Author: blackbird212012

I am interested in multimedia work: songwriting, art, and creative writing. I have been involved also in theatre and music performances.

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