|
| |
What becomes of a world?
The trees ache with a pain only those who have witnessed true horror
The swinging rope moping for it had been turned to a killer
The threads unravelling trying to escape
A maze with no end
Running, running, running Away
Yet still can't escape its fate
A fallen leaf a tear of the tree
Weeping for a life no more
Haunted by the thought of how many more
Will face a death so brutal
The branches snap screaming in pain
Wishing to not be a ploy in their game
The blood Soaked roots
Will grow into a plant who will wear their name
The sun has hidden things will never be the same
A life lost is a star gained
The world grieves with drops of rain
Trying to control a harrowing pain
The buildings still paying respects
Dressed in a layer of a grief so known
For centuries it stood a witness to a tragedy all alone
The broken windows shattered by the screams it spoke
Choked by the air which had lost all hope
What must become of a body disposed
More blood than man
The red that shows
Maybe good can come evil where flowers may grow
Maybe the sky will gift a rainbow
To bring hope for another tomorrow
What becomes of body now gone
What happens to a family who couldn't mourn
A death that brought about violent storm
The earth has quietened
The streets forlorn
Watching another black families heart be torn
The end of a funeral left to a house rid of warmth
The world haunted by the joy long gone
What becomes of a world without the lights on
What becomes of a world that houses an atmosphere so cold
What becomes of a world where the that barely holds on
Slowly crumbling its foundations
The structure that holds everything up
Has now been torn down
What becomes of a world that let's black people down
It becomes a place where joy becomes a ghost town
Copyright ©
Layla Riley-Hill
|
|