It was a normal morning when
-like any other-
I opened the newspaper.

It was a normal newspaper
-with normal articles on the latest
war and human destruction

It was a normal war on
a normal wednesday morning
but then
I realized the absolute abnormality
in this

and cried.

For how can it be normal
that we're so used to
the blood, pain, tears and hate
on out photos and hands
-that we've become numb
to our own inhumane impact on the world?

Old Teenage Poems

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-normal-wednesday-cry/