Another recently found old poem. I don’t remember writing this, so I often search online to see if it were written by someone else.
The children like the knives.
They use them to survive.
And get on with their lives.
Allowing them to thrive.
The children guard the knives.
They guard them with their lives.
If you want to stay alive.
You’ll stop it with this jive.
The children bring the knives.
Soon they will arrive.
We’ll see who will survive.
We’ll see who takes a dive.
Children, children, here they come!
Knives in hand and ready.
Standing, waiting, one by one.
Targeted and steady.