Blog Archive

Wednesday, May 7, 2008


Blinded eyes weep in secret rooms
and thoughts on puppet strings
dance to the madness tune
heard in the wail of sirens
perched far above a collection
of dying souls;

Their screams echo and ring
through the corridors of time
as bullets play god and
open wounds pain where
scars won't form.

Unborn descendants plead
for mercy as terror infects
their veins and hearts are
bathed in cold light from the
devil's own blood thirsty eyes.

Stories forfeit hope for truth as
history is scrawled in tortured
whispers and etched in a world's
concience with a million burning
finger tips.

No comments: