[Dedicated to our fellowpoet, The DedPoet]

Horror.
Evilness.

We throw up,
our heart
we hang in a rope of tears.

All the gods
are silent.

And blind.

We watch
ourselves,
torned,
a full pain
turning us
into
a punishing fury,
apocalyptical riders.

And then
we see them,
the children.
So restless,
fearfull,
sorrowed...

But they fell asleep.

We watch over them.

And love,
unconditional love,
a forever love kind,
overwhelming love,
makes us understand
we are needed
and we must stay
and we must be able
to learn them,
our children, our own blood,
to trust again.

And we cry
and our tears
are their protection.

And they awaken,
stirred, first,
but we hug them,
the two at a time.
No words are needed.
Just love.
They will know
it is the real thing.