Tearing loose at the seams,
The shrouds of the souls, gathered up in reams.
Books on fire, tatters remain,
Purloin the remnants, hide the pain.
The clouds swell with glowering rage
Grasps the binding, turns the page.
An ashen face juxtaposed to the miry cold,
and the rumble of distant gunfire, becoming bold.
Pen poised, clutched in cracked hands,
Distant wails of the Promised Land.
Sirens blare, "escape! run! hide!"
Bombs pour forth from the thick, roiling sky.
Swing low, sweet chariot.
YOU ARE READING
Avenge The Broken Ones
PoetryThis is simply a collection of the poems I hurriedly scratch out around midnight. I usually write about whatever stokes my fancy at the moment - usually sad things, or ramblings about love. Depression and anxiety rule my life, so be prepared to exp...
