Howl no more for
Fury filled the mind and the rage spread about.
It consumed and ate all being.
The lands rot.
All life is not.
Forsaken and betrayed.
The words do not trails out by tongue
But by the blood droplets on the ground.
Behold!
Behold murder and slayer of innocent on the floor.
Where shall now the hatred file to?
What shall the angels say onto them when they arrive?
Why has it all resolved to this moment?
The weeping steams of crimson will give no rest to those who witness.
The victims have no words.
For death was their gift.
I was not a yielder of weapons.
I swear I was just a humble soul.
I hurt no one.
I only...
I only ...
I only defended my home.
Follow the trails blood and you will find the tale.
A daughter slayed in the garden,
A wife in the doorway,
A son with rod in hand by the study,
The strange knight in the barn,
Arrows rained upon the farm door,
A fire raging on in the house.
I am only a familiar cat
Who punished the wicked.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry of the Tides
PoetryA series of poems with different meanings and moods. They are all here and have been here a good time from the tides of my mind. I give you some entries of earnest tidings.
