The blue flag

A poem about the futility of protesting.

I can see the flight of the flag,

dancing in the wind.

People stand and smoke beneath it,

their lives seem so busy.

filled with bombs and politics,

political bombs.

and stuff.

I'm not busy. I watch instead.

My dad's in there. in that hall.

I can see the tv crews,

hear the protests.

And i'm wondering...

would they just shut up?

the UN aint gonna solve their problems.