Humans come and go,
Existence melts like snow
Stained an angry red.
We’d be better off dead:
Strewn on the autumn ground
Where leaves slowly compound
Their scarlet shades a-seeping,
And we forever sleeping.
Children, listen close:
Do not become the host
Of deceit’s deadly blight.
Power is a parasite.
It’s easier, you’ll find,
To leave the law behind
When faced with what’s unfurled:
Purge evil from this world
And **** **** ****
The wind whistling shrill
Is mimicking their cries.
Everybody dies,
But some with lesser worth.
The winds shift back and forth
To cover their pale faces,
Safe in hidden places.
****** were their bones to rot
Until the Earth forgot
What sickness walked its soil.
Let ivy softly coil
Around their vile remains.
Thank nature for its pains:
Pray we’re rid of the worst
Of mortal beings so cursed.
Some drift among the waves
That carry unmarked graves
Of countless peaceful souls.
The tide endlessly rolls
And whispers countless names
Of once-extinguished flames
Smote in the ink-black sea,
Hushed for eternity
And binded in their fate.
Their bones sink with its weight
And scrape along the floor,
Touched by the sun no more
As stars look coldly on.
It seems my soul has gone
To the sea to plot.
(I know, I know. I thought
That normal were such musings, but
I find I seem to visit there a lot,)
On any given whim.
It waits there, quiet, grim
Under the waxen moon.
It will come to me soon,
With a salt-weathered shell
And many tales to tell.
Sometimes I think that-- hey,
Don't quickly walk away.
When our time comes, they say,
The ocean will hold our bones too, someday.
Apr 22, 2020
Apr 22, 2020 at 3:56 PM UTC
Humans come and go,
Existence melts like snow
Stained an angry red.
We’d be better off dead:
Strewn on the autumn ground
Where leaves slowly compound
Their scarlet shades a-seeping,
And we forever sleeping.
Children, listen close:
Do not become the host
Of deceit’s deadly blight.
Power is a parasite.
It’s easier, you’ll find,
To leave the law behind
When faced with what’s unfurled:
Purge evil from this world
And **** **** ****
The wind whistling shrill
Is mimicking their cries.
Everybody dies,
But some with lesser worth.
The winds shift back and forth
To cover their pale faces,
Safe in hidden places.
****** were their bones to rot
Until the Earth forgot
What sickness walked its soil.
Let ivy softly coil
Around their vile remains.
Thank nature for its pains:
Pray we’re rid of the worst
Of mortal beings so cursed.
Some drift among the waves
That carry unmarked graves
Of countless peaceful souls.
The tide endlessly rolls
And whispers countless names
Of once-extinguished flames
Smote in the ink-black sea,
Hushed for eternity
And binded in their fate.
Their bones sink with its weight
And scrape along the floor,
Touched by the sun no more
As stars look coldly on.
It seems my soul has gone
To the sea to plot.
(I know, I know. I thought
That normal were such musings, but
I find I seem to visit there a lot,)
On any given whim.
It waits there, quiet, grim
Under the waxen moon.
It will come to me soon,
With a salt-weathered shell
And many tales to tell.
Sometimes I think that-- hey,
Don't quickly walk away.
When our time comes, they say,
The ocean will hold our bones too, someday.