Earth & metal, melting under the obsession of being,
Dissolving death & consequence, mirroring my green,
Like rage & despair, they settle for the walls of my veins,
Tainting my blood & caging me inside my bones,
Eyes & children lost their humor,
Pain amplified, bruised tears,
Compact surrender,
Love for this poison, the potential of relief & revenge,
The shaken & the colored,
Calmed spirits, not in areas of the unclear,
Content minds, never leaving their place,
Scattered brains, shot down,
You & your others, the nation of blood & killings,
The white roses, you’ve slapped ebony red.
I titled this poem worldy cycles because it stars with the heaviness of earth, reflecting the heaviness of being a part of it but, like all things of this world, ends with growth, even if it comes from death.
PS: The part in the middle about content and tortured minds is from Arabic folklore and proverbs. It doesn't quite fit, but to me it adds something I need to have there.