And the roses have overgrown,
dancing the mark of blood.
Whilst the violets have collapsed,
causing the banks to flood.
So soft, and sire your eyes to watch.
Watch; as the riverbanks overflow upon the sine,
while the skies tumble down the mountain's tine.
Watch; as the trees quake and quiver and jeer,
while the vines attest against the serpent's sneer.
Watch; as the wanderer dances into depression,
while the murderer moves to his confession.
Watch; as the evening glare chooses to bustle,
for midnight to midday has tussled.
Because as the apex of the apocalypse nears,
so do the looming eyes in which mirth layers.
And here we stand, flamed by our fears,
from the predators as we send our silent prayers.
YOU ARE READING
Poesy of Eloquence
Poetry❝ this tragedy is soaked with tears that dry the ink in my hands. ❞ ━ the poesy I've yearned to release ever since I taught myself to pick up the pen and write. ❝ for if the painting of my words be the garden upon the gate of heaven, glimpse them...
