The Beasts
Old poem, simply because I feel guilty for not using this thing enough--yet am too lazy to write anything new. Oh well.
The Beasts
The filthy beasts gaped vacantly
With the blood of the nation smeared on their feet.
Their one-thought minds paralleling the backdrop
Of shadows and diseased corpses,
Of phantasms and squalor,
Of thoughtless thoughts and torn feeling.
The beasts beheld as the incubus, hidden in gnats,
Ruptured any beliefs and values they still held dear.
Mouths, slightly ajar, trickled emotion
Onto the stained floor until they were dehydrated.
The brutes began to converse identically
And countenances that were once alive decayed.
Darkness replaced their sentiments,
Affection converted to disgust.
But they appeared not to comprehend what they now lacked
As they walked away, with eyes hollowed out.
The Beasts
The filthy beasts gaped vacantly
With the blood of the nation smeared on their feet.
Their one-thought minds paralleling the backdrop
Of shadows and diseased corpses,
Of phantasms and squalor,
Of thoughtless thoughts and torn feeling.
The beasts beheld as the incubus, hidden in gnats,
Ruptured any beliefs and values they still held dear.
Mouths, slightly ajar, trickled emotion
Onto the stained floor until they were dehydrated.
The brutes began to converse identically
And countenances that were once alive decayed.
Darkness replaced their sentiments,
Affection converted to disgust.
But they appeared not to comprehend what they now lacked
As they walked away, with eyes hollowed out.