PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

At birth there are lines of the crib

You must stay within,

You graduate to a bed

Lines of room confine instead.



Lines move outward as older we grow,

Setting boundaries for us we know.

The boundaries are within reason,

Or are they just little prisons?



We go to the map and lines defines our county,

We compete with our neighbor for a business’s bounty.

We look further and around our state are lines,

All within are governed by states rights of laws defined.



Then we look at a globe’s depiction of mother earth,

More lines around countries fracturing her girth.

Lines denoting national borders,

To govern their people and maintain order.



Is order really their mission,

Or do the lines make for a little prison.

You can visit, is the gist,

Leave your money Mister tourist.



Lines are prisons to maintain cultural purity,

Translates to stagnation due to lack of maturity.

Our air moves across all lines,

Maintaining life of all kinds.



Lines are an abomination that man has drawn,

Using up the common man as a pawn.

Fight for this line on the map,

Win the war and give it back.



What has been gained, what lost,

Too many lives paid the cost.

For that stupid line on the map,

God forgive us for being saps.