Children lose their mother's grasp,
Canvases blaze amid ruins.
With bodies struggling for their final gasp,
They watch their children wandering, bedouins.
People watching their final act,
As a killer wait among them.
Life broke her pact,
As death took to condemn.
Desperation washed over the city ,
For her love was lost.
As mourners all over the world watched in pity,
For the artists were now nothing but ghosts.
The crimson shadows of the innocent,
Are all thats left behind,
Of the world's most loved citizens,
Are now left dead , Their love blind.
//Paris...
Martyrs Of The Night.
YOU ARE READING
For I Was God.
PoetryPoems that put emotions to words, painting a vivid and disturbing picture of the human psyche down the path to insanity. At times terrifying, at times profound, and at times brilliant.
