Five Fraught Faces

Buried beneath blood-shot baby doll eyes where drowns dark truths dwelling empty despair, finds five fraught faces from false idol lies clinging cold-coffins caused by cruel affair; Saddled by sorrow seen in mother’s stare, washed while awaiting where water is filled pouring in porcelain planned to be killed; Languishing lost lacking warmth much less love, ended in eerily foul episodes, angrier now than Almighty above mumbling murmurs in murderous modes; Ripe for wrongs reversed through revengeful roads, tantalized terrors too tempted to taste blood brought by bathwater boiling in baste; Chastised and chided, these children chilling journey for justice with jealous intent, mystically moving, maddened minds milling, howling horrific while haunting content; For sins suffered by souls salvation bent, never they rest now, now nestled in night, purposed, their plight, seeks parents punished right; Aiming as arrows at any ones found, dripping disgust at desolate devils, grumble gigantic than gnash to the ground lustfully lashing in lunatic levels; As rancid bells heard, rusted rung rebels, thoroughly thrashing throats within their reach, fifty fingers, if figured, ten for each. And why wouldn’t what withered weary do, dragged desperate to death by der’lict brain, taught terrible things when tongues tied untrue incited mother inside turned insane? Silence should swallow who speaks sour on slain, judgments be gentle, gestate not Hell’s gates, for these are the children of Andrea Yates. 9/16/2016 Submitted For: Scare Me Good Poetry Contest