Tongues of Fire
Torrid tongues of fire lick the sky
tasting death, as jets scream by.
And there's no safety within caves
or bombed basements that morph into graves.
Anger smolders like burning coals,
igniting flames that consume souls.
And hearts shatter like fragile glass,
lives bartered for the price of gas.
Crimson blood stains the hands of God,
yet blasphemers don't think that's odd.
For words scrawled on banners of hate,
say infidels will rue their fate.
Mother and child, entombed by death,
plead for revenge with their last breath.
And spilled on the altar of pride,
an ocean of blood drowns each side.
Both young and old parade their rage,
there is no shelter found in age.
And as righteous flames sear the ground,
hate, mistrust, and revenge abound.
(Rhyme)
8/29/2017
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2017
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