Tormentors Regret

Silent is the night
as the demon awakes 
from his restless  sleep
cursed of love and ridiculed of hate
he crawls on the floor of the earth
weeping the sorrows of the lost souls
choking back the tears that don't fall
with the screams of salvation from the innocent 
its his beauty they don't call
the meek will inherit the grounds we walk
by turning the other face to face
as he howls to wake the dead
and march on our tormentors
and their very lost souls ...

Brooke Dylan
Copyright © | Year Posted 2014

Poem

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

Lindley Avatar
July 27, 2014 at 10:34 PM
A fine write. Not your usual cheerful take but still very well written. Good to see a new write from you!
Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace