Be
How do the trees grow
Nobody seems to know
The flowers die
Nobody knows why
As the bricks are laid
People are paid
Nothing is ever made
It is said we’re playing in a pool of blood
The flowers are gone
It’s going to flood
We have become the mud
This can’t be
I’ve got to get out and see
Have to be the good in me
I’ve got to get myself free
I have to be me
By: Roger Harkness
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I wrote this poem when I was a teenager