Oct 22, 2009 23:35
Upon clouds of gray she arrived unto the hills below,
With a silent kiss and a shot from her bow,
Who's arrow built a land of sorrow.
As mother tranquility fled the scene,
Leaving behind a monstrous fiend.
Houses sunk into smoke,
Engulfed by a blackened cloak.
A weary woman huddled up in a chair,
her still body screamed despair.
Looking for life, I tapped her arm,
her gaze remained without charm.
Though the fields of time ran on ahead,
I couldn't leave the sudden dread,
Would this be the last field I cross?
Would this be the last moment I toss?
Shooting blanks,
These hills have become so full of empty.
You did this to us,
You turned us oh so beastly.
Now climb back down your steel steps,
To the heart of hells below,
Let the rungs be marked with footsteps,
Let the town free of sin and sorrow.
poem,
poca,
love,
fantasy,
hate