A storm rolls in the hills of the sea.
A bird cries out in misery.
Caged, trapped... eternally.
Who will finally set me free?
A world torn of blood and lies
We applaud the ignorant, yet we are blind
To the struggles and the pain of those long passed
Yet a hand outstretched will ne'r us grasp
The tools of hatred, of blood and war
Will stand above all for 'ere us more
And the rain will come and wash our hands
Of the pain our hearts to those we pass
The grasp of minds of bodies and soul
Will 'ere us more unto glory galore
For the bite and the fang of the dog and the wolf
Are different at best and the same at worst
The silence of the world, and the whisper of the trees
As they sway together in harmony
A quiet symphony unheard by man
And grasped upon quietly by the souls of the damned
So fly and grow and wither and die
For the flowers of hope and the shadows of goodbye
All will wither and turn to dust
'fore being reborn as one of us.
YOU ARE READING
Philosophical Rant (and poems)
RandomThis isn't a story. This doesn't have a beginning nor an ending. It's merely a peek into my mind and my views on the world. Warnings for dark themes, confusing themes, and things that just don't make sense.
