What the Eye Sees the Heart Cannot Forget
The little shack on the other side of the hill
Now another monument to death, he knows
But something beckons, something, still
This is the path the warrior chose.
Gun pointed at the scattering shadows
Nobody to trust, it’s better to fill
No assumptions. Presently he slows:
The little shack on the other side of the hill
Long before this time, death was a thrill
But seeing it makes any man close
Their eyes, lest they see what’s haunting their kill
Now another monument to death, he knows
Peeking inside, another places of woes
A shiver up the spine, a chill
To see the mutilation of others’ beaus
But something beckons, something, still
Another step in, a gunshot shrill
The air rips apart with endemic’s crows
Before the world turns to black and nil.
This is the path the warrior chose.
All that remained a little book of prose
The heart never forgets when it was ill
As the powers of Nature swiftly rose
She found, on the other side of the hill
The little shack…
Copyright © J. Amorose | Year Posted 2017
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