Your hands are smeared with blood
But you can't see it
For you are blinded by a burning urge for money
That you are a murder
Responsible for the death of multitudes of
voiceless souls
You are oblivious
You know not
Of the ugly axiom
That with a pen and paper
And few sentences of twisted truths
Can take a person's life
Andytics mufc
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-journalist/
