Dressed in Black
The sun rises dressed in black
clouds cry as Siern's call
whithering in pain from burning flesh, burning ashes
leaving a bloody wound upon the Earth
Where stones stand silent in front of mounds
covered in grass washed in red
from the veins of those who have died
in senseless wars covering thousands of years
The tears of the mourning
try to wash away the blood of the buried
Their souls are crumbling in failure
As they bow to the curse of their misery
They paint their world from green to red in memory
from the carnage of generations
where emotional weakness masquerades as power
doomed to failure, over and over
Filling the sea, filling the soil
With broken tender branches sacrificed as an offering
on the battlefields of destruction by the evils of so few
Trying to enrich their corrupt souls
that drips with the blood of millions, staining the Earth
Is this the pinnacle of life?
To roam the landscape as destroyers of worlds
Where burning flesh becomes a fragrance to breathe in
filling the lungs of lunacy
While marching in parades on the torn streets
of self-gratification
where the blind stand to applaud
Then rummage through shattered worlds
filled with the dead and dying, like rats
scurrying across broken stones of false promises
Where liars hide in the shadows of discontent
The sun rises dressed in black
clouds cry as Siern's call
Copyright © Frederic Parker | Year Posted 2025
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment