Dangling. Drooping. Swaying. Slouching. Hanging. Holding.
I was describing a flag. What did you think I was talking about?
Sick.
Did you think I was talking about something else?
The flag dangles in the limp wind. The flag droops in the silence. It sways and slouches. It hangs. It holds.
But what?
Did you think there was more?
I am talking about how the flag, how lifeless it appears when a country falls. When all hope is lost and its meaning lost. It's purpose long faded by shortcomings and failures to protect others. So there it hangs with no meaning.
Do you really think this is about something else?
The flag failed. It failed to bring hope to others. It failed to inspire others. Now it hangs there limply in the wind. Swaying like a dead puppet. Perhaps it was a puppet all along. Bearing bright colors of hope and light but truly it meant nothing.
If you wish to learn something from this, you will not.
Only that the flag has failed.
Oh, you think there is more?
There is hope even when the wind stops blowing? Such an interesting notion. Why don't you tell about it? How the flag means more than its bright colors. How it can inspire others by not pretending to be ideal, but a bloodied flag of strength and courage.
...
Maybe this isn't about a flag after all.
YOU ARE READING
GRUESOME TALES AND DARK POEMS
PoetryGruesome tales of darkness and ominous poems of killers lie within this book. This is my new playground for testing out horror based writing and disturbing descriptions. The content might be unsettling to sensitive readers.
