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Prasla ?PAGE?1? Ali Prasla GT English II Bybee 13 April 2012 The Tragedy of Great Power Politics He doesn't speak much Most of the time, he just sits there Looking, and staring at the Wall. The names etched of long forgotten men Anne said he would never stop talking when he was little. And now all I hear is silence Then I had it- why he always looked so grim Whenever he would smile Whenever I told a funny joke, A grin would light up his face And yet his eyes remained hollow, I was entranced by them And revolted by them The horrors they?ve seen The death they have done Lifeless pools of misery Bottomless pits of sorrow Then he caught me looking and flashed with anger ?Get out of my eyes you son of a bitch!? And I did. I did.
