Six O’Clock in the Morning:

Summary: The world’s a full place and it never sleeps. There’s always something going on…

Sleeping in bed
Entering a dreamland
Dropping off as they sing a lullaby.
You dream of things unthought of beforehand;
Sometimes won’t be thought of again until you die.
They’re your dreams, your fantasies, yours forevermore
Battling and fighting, screaming in pain,
Does it really matter? It never did before.
Staying asleep as weak morning sun floods the room.
At six o’clock in the morning.

Cold steel upon cold steel;
That’s how things used to be.
But now the choice weapon’s a gun
Bang bang; they’re down, it doesn’t take a miracle to see
That they won’t be back up again in a hurry.
You hurt them, you leave them, yet you don’t care,
Your doing your job, so why should it matter to you who you wound?
What does it matter to you if your leaving newfound orphans there?
What does it matter if they’ll never get up again
After six o’clock in the morning?

A patch of red stains the carpet,
A body-shaped heap lying a-top
That person knows they’re dying,
But will that make their killers stop?
Their children are all crying,
Destined to be alone, parents dead,
But the sad thing is another killer could come
And choose to take the kids instead
Fate lying in the hands of seemed madmen
At six o’clock in the morning.

Tied up to a chair for no reason,
What does innocence matter to the guys who did it?
Squirming and struggling, trying to get free,
But hope seems to be fading and you can do nothing but sit
While the world is a-struggling
And they’re trying their bestto get them back
But what’s a little kidnapping when the girl’s safe?
While elsewhere people scream, die, fight, or more mildly, get the sack
While one person’s saved, twenty others die
At six o’clock in the morning.

People sleeping,
Sleeping whilst that world of Hell spins ‘round.
People fighting
Sorting out their problems by sending bodies sprawling to the ground.
People dying
Drawing forth the crimson liquid that we need to stay alive,
People struggling
Unsure of if they’ll even survive
And all this happens just at thatone time:
Six o’clock in the morning.

A/N: Not brilliant, but better than some of my other poetry. What do you think? Please review.