After the War
After the War
There was nothing remotely familiar,
I could see no one and everyone all at once.
These people were lost, they were all dead.
Salem grew dark-blushing from a freshly spent temptation.
A seduction created from the ideas of rash men,
that was then danced into destiny's details by the devil.
It continued breeding shadow as every flame,
owned by the light was savagely snuffed-out.
Murder was now on a most elegant hunt.
Each diminishing spark documented each kill,
becoming a darker list of victims.
Meanwhile the thick lingering Blackness,
kept an informal score as the shadow continued to grow in strength.
Secretly,
far off in the distance,
a melody of sweetly soft smothered shrieks
signaled and started a symphony of serenely sombering sobs.
Sobs that began shaping and shifting into inarticulated sighs and cries that never faltered.
But still,
was met with one lone menacing Nightmare: “a overstayed it's welcome Terror.”
It circled any remaining flame of light like a bottom feeding vulture.
Pushing it's poor neglected lies unto any and all close by ears.
It could be heard loudly whispering to your hopes and dreams-
"Fret not" it almost always began,
"For though you have truly lost it all-your lives included-there is a promise to clothe you."
There was no hiding the disdain from it's voice or face at the last two words.
But as quickly as the emotion appeared,
it was replaced with a plastic sneer as it finished with:
"All things look good, even better, dressed in our monograms."
I found it's night terror of tall tale amusing,
meeting this Nightmare face to face as my insistent smirk escaped my control.
Unnoticed by all-including me.
Copyright © Stevie Smith | Year Posted 2016
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