Hearts
A voice fills the ears of the dead
There are walls covered with red paint
In the heart of the slums
The sky is eternally gray
The clouds moving along sluggishly
Like the people walking the streets
The buildings feature glass-less windows
Where ghastly specters now roam freely
Spreading the plague of hushed voices
In one building a little boy hides
His knees are scraped and covered with grime
And sobs shake his tender form
The darkness shrouds him like a cloak
But instead of warmth he feels cold
The frigid hands of the phantom
His mother was felled by natural means
For earth shot through her heart as a bullet
Placing her in the hands of Death
Yet the camera moves out of the house
Shifting to look at the entire ruined city
A remembrance of a time long passed
Like the trash that filled the streets so often
Bodies now lay scattered over the entire city
But instead of fear in their eyes, it is laughter
For the feeling of joy was all they could muster
Against the bloody tyrants that ripped them asunder
And filled a city of angels with the whispers of ghosts
Humanity wished for a serene golden age
Where hatred, brutality, anger, anguish, fear
Were finally eradicated
That wish has been granted with an iron kiss
Yet the irony of the empty and barren world
Is that it all faded with humanity leaving an empty void
A single voice fills the ears of the dead
A waylaid message to turn back the clock
In the heart of the slums
Copyright © Christopher Goss | Year Posted 2018
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