Spoiler
In case some people don't know, in my hometown of London, there are riots going on, where about 450 have been arrested and possibly some people killed. This is a poem about that. If you are interested about how this whole thing started, visit BBC.com for more information.
The riots have started tonight,
And I can never realise why it does.
For the protest has turned into violence;
A peaceful silence has transformed
Into a blood curdling roar.
The riots have begun again,
And I cannot get to sleep.
The smell of burnt cars and shops;
The average working class day
Is now a million miles away.
The riots have left their mark,
So we can never recover.
The opportunity has been handed,
To the beasts and to the idiots,
On a silver platter
The riots have started tonight,
Not because of a policeman's mistake.
It is the ultimate excuse for those,
Impatient and always carefully waiting,
To let human nature unleash.
The riots may never end,
As the endless nights catch up.
All those businesses destroyed;
The politicians are abroad.
The irony has kicked in.
The riots have claimed a life,
And the police stand their ground.
The temptation in their eyes,
I want to fucking kill him!
but Lord knows it's not correct.
The riots say it all;
There are people like that.
Youth transformed into crime,
And innocence now stained.
"You're under arrest son."
The riots are an epilogue
Of youth and morality.
Laughing at the fire,
The factories collapse.
Is it always like this?
The riots continue outside;
The deconstruction of hearts.
I have never seen such idiocy,
Such normal people turning
Into hyenas in the night.
The riots will go on
Until the day they realise
That life isn't about violence,
Nor is it about power.
That will only matter in the end.
