Here is a poem I wrote back in my university poetry class.
In the Sandbox
As children, life was wild and unrestrained.
We struggled every day against the beasts
That lurked in wait to leap upon us misfits.
We often wished of having greater might,
Or dreamed of other worlds where we’d be safe.
Together, we would gather for protection.
Those bullies must have felt some kind of hate
Or jealousy to look upon us there,
And without reason, attacked us harshly.
Now when some children grow to be adults
They have the jungle still inside of them.
Their hearts are dark, devising clever ways
To justify their violent tendencies;
Coating them with lovely rhetoric
And sophisticated modern weaponry.
Are we not still like children, flinging sand?
The stakes are higher on this playground.
While we shoot and drop missiles, glorifying war,
The sandbox slowly buries our bloodied victims.