Those who remain here


The land looks like a cemetery
Empty country
Haunted houses and hearts,
Nelson's funeral in the moisty town carried my thoughts when people left this place.

The weather is heavy
This is a proper manifestation of how destroyed we are
Dead or tired
Or just given up
Letting the heat take us to the inferno we crave now:
Rest for the evil ones,
The release of the ties of those who are ment to fly

No battle, no war
Was it worth the effort?
Sorrow bathed the streets and angels smiled
Hope is the last thing to die in a soldier without father land to protect.
There's has to be a way out of the past
Where the creator of all this is blind
Where life can finally be embraced as something more than misery.

The streets are ruled by ghosts
We stay inside our houses
Praying above for enough bravado to rip off the chains
And leave.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem