Hello, friend, I thought you knew;
There was no one that was flawless,
Those that came close were a few,
And yet with time,it seems to matter less,
The hands that appeared clean,
They were filthy in the new light,
Not by new crimes but an old sin,
Neither forgotten nor forgiven.
Even when a price had been paid,
In the fields where dead boys lay,
Frightened fully to death & repentant they stayed,
For the greatest of good, their courage they found.
If the land was to be cleansed,it had to be by blood.
And it was.
Could they fully atone?
I'd never claim that I knew.
But the truth is they tried,
Prostrated in the marshes,
Only to be convicted in the court of the masses,
For the crime of their ancestry,
There's no present, there's no history.
The road to absolution runs through a fiery purgatory,
And the flames will keep burning,
Till there's no trace of the family tree.
-Constino.
YOU ARE READING
Rhymes AND Nonsense
PoetryLife is a mountain, it's a fountain, it is a sea. Though we can't live it to the fullest, it goes on after we're gone, it goes on forever more. Life never ends.
