Red-haired renegades,
Ghouls with laser guns,
Cobras dressed in tiger skins,
And jet stars whizzing by,
A helmet clad messenger skating through wavering desert heat.
Don't blink.
Keep thinking.
Lack of such resulted in
The lives of blank-minded souls.
When one child remains,
Let her open her dirty palm
To the heavens
And teach her to fight back.
After our four gaurdians leaders perish,
She will know how to survive,
And hopefully, continue their legacy of her own volition.
Though we know it's in our heads,
We shall rise anew to defeat those who killed our hopes
And sing it to the world
when we claim our victory.
If we are lucky,
We may let go in the end,
Reminiscent of it all,
And allow ourselves to move forward.
Killjoys are those who simply
See the the truth through deceit,
While feeling the sting of pain
Through the rush of pleasure.
While we join to fight now,
Clasp hands in redemption,
Avenge our saviors,
And make some noise,
Their final words reign true.
It's an idea, after all.
Signed,
Miss Chevious
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Poems
PoezieJust a collection of poems I wrote, most have darker themes, so here's your angst/trigger warning if you need it. I write these on a pc so if the format looks weird on your phone that's probably why.
