The Unspoken Things.

Picture the world as you know it now,

the cameras, the movies, the action, wow.

Now, look at the sky and pick out a cloud

each as puffed up as people are proud.

Vowed, never to return to this earth

a dusty angel then, never to give birth.

Alert; were this world to repine in the vine

of its drunkenness, it would be just divine

in my mind where a rhyme does reside.

Inside, a harrowing feelings does betide

as a warning of a feeling coming colder than ice;

why play nice? The clock has already wrung thrice.

Feel the veins drying up as the blood is poured out

on the streets, where a shout is heard wringing loud

the ears of the innocent, murderous people.

The blood is drained from atop the church steeple;

Knives flash light from the end of their flight

a colder steel burning through the scars of a fight.

A fleeting peace as blurred vision takes hold,

a wondrous light shatters breaths drawn cold;

the light flees nearer as dark draws further,

blasting the fairy tales that have been told.

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