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Now With Increasing Darkness O'erhead

Bleating at the rain, the despondent sheep
Their days and nights aching in blinded sleep;
Til masters, their dominated lives take
With true evil, which they never forsake,
For greed and lust demands taking it all-
Easily destroying the weak and small,
Bringing Death, leaving carcass bleached bones
Forever lost, sad echoes of their moans,
Knowing Time will erase signs of such deeds
Hiding evil under soil and tall weeds;
Nothing seen, nobody shall ever mourn
Lives taken, far more than their fleece was shorn.
Now with increasing darkness o'erhead,
Storming skies rain upon its evil spread
Cast into that fury, lies that expand
Into hearts and souls, across blackened lands
Once clear waters, now running with bright red
As dark masters sleep safe in wicked beds-
Dawns bring forth blacken shards of broken light
Sheep yet living are thus denied true sight
And into those fires, innocence is thrown,
That from which truth dies, large monsters are grown
In expanding darkness, higher flames shoot
Hope is lost, its promises are made moot.

Robert J. Lindley,
5-11-2019
Dark Rhyme, ( The Tragic Results When Mortals Become Blinded Sheep)

(1.)*shorn:

Sheep shearing is the process by which the woollen fleece of a sheep is cut off. The person who removes the sheep's wool is called a shearer. Typically each adult sheep is shorn once each year (a sheep may be said to have been "shorn" or "sheared", depending upon dialect).

(2.) * o'erhead

o'erhead-

Definitions
adjective,  Contraction of , overhead.
********

Note: As requested, I have paused my usual course taken, in order to compose this morn and present 
here a dark poem( written in a bit more classical style), one that represents truth and the current state of this dark world that is getting ever more dark. And in my estimation the poet that requested this from me is absolutely right, poetry needs more truth, even if it has to come by way of dark verses! I honor that request with this piece and pray that it may suffice..

When a poet I greatly respects asks me to write something, I tend to make a way to honor that request. Such was the case this morn , when I found and read a very long email addressed to me , its commentary that led to the requested poem.
While Time is a precious commodity, so is truth and sincere respect and friendship..
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