World Of Lies

Poem By Emily Myers

Our children grow up in a world of lies,
broken homes and broken dreams.
A cycle of hate continued through time
where nothing is as it seems.
The nightly news tells tales of death;
of children we have failed to save.
We fail to teach them right from wrong,
we weren't taught, just the same.
Words can scar them more than hands,
actions more than knives.
Wounds on their skin may fade within
but the pain stays within their eyes.
We create havens to protect them,
but who to save them from?
The people whom we have entrusted with
giving them dreams and teaching them love?
The future is held in our children’s hands;
our nation’s hope, within their minds.
But their future looks bleak when they have broken dreams
and they grow up in a world of lies.

Comments about World Of Lies

This is very well written, the truth of society of today is being told. Change can only take place one person at a time. Scott


Rating Card

5 out of 5
0 total ratings

Other poems of MYERS

The Game Of Rape (Aka: My Father's Love)

This hate, it’s leading you astray; farther
and farther it begins to take you away
from the daughter you once loved and gave.
Gave her away to the dark side of

Anger Epidemic

A yellow, metal sky, sketched with streaks of heaven
Faded clouds, once white and bright, now drift by dull and jaded
Steel mill flames illuminate the tarnished sky with rosy heat
Embers die and simply lie, smoldering defeat

Cemetary City

The granite towers stand unmoving
collecting dust, and dead flowers.
Unfit markers of lost love, immeasurable lives
simple summaries of complex hours.

Just A Girl

These embers were a fire, now my tears are dark and ashen
A dream is just a dream until you put it into action
'You are just a girl', they say. I am too naïve
To dream the things im dreaming, which I never can achieve

Murder Of The Butterfly

In the silence I hear soft and convicting
The scream of a butterfly, loud and unnerving
Caught in a gossamer web layered with dew
The spider advances and the terror is new

Autumn's Last Stand

The firey leaves
grasp at the branches
hoping they can last-
one more hour, minute