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cries of the red skies
the fallen soldier's demise
the land of the wounded
marred with the glasses aflame
toxic gases exhumed and
undoing havoc as far as the eye could see
forsaken infants; enraged cattle stock left
behind to grieve.
bloody floods harder to tame,
quivering hands out for aid
around the darkest valley.
shimmering amethyst rhinestones
under the stark sunlight,
the only part not burnt
into crisp, white hot light.
.
nobody was at fault
for the gutting havoc,
nor was it the motif to discuss
just a sour taste at the back of the mouth,
an unduly surge of penitence, loud
for all of this was once
such a sight to behold,
the blazing blue sky
glossed over with far too many
butterflies,
the sing songs of the
humored diligent soldiers,
lost it all over a simplified merger.
the wide, beguiling arena
which had took years of hardihood,
to have built with tall glass trees
now, all into crumbles
as the hawk sat there with a glass of
wine,
wondering where it'd next dine.
as the grieving partners wondered
where it all went wrong,
when did they surrender?
for now, they thought it to be far gone;
not knowing, such a hefty price
was not the outcome
of their irrational gait.
even if they think it's too lost a cause,
even if they anguish at the
view of this pinnacle of a train wreck
the only advice,
it's never too late to fire back;
just get up, take a breath & forgive
yourself for there's a whole world out
there for you to recreate
----------------
5/01/2022
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YOU ARE READING
rhymes of the wicked
Poetry· this terrene, so aphotic. my voice unduly too thin. will it even reach the perpetrators or will it be buried within? i, revel in my convoluted, never particularly welcomed but occasional darkness here, as i take path d...
