tanks with demon eyes.
Another blast. Another long lost sigh.
Drawing closer in the day.
Invading dreams they always tried
so hard to keep at bay.
Like fireworks upon the too-dry earth.
Vibrations of pure pain were everywhere.
Filling up the atmosphere while tending
to the dead, so poorly mourned.
Another morning couldn't make
walls of plaster-coated paint.
The inner turned to outer had become
another saint within hushed corridors
of incense burning strong. Fanatic
strength ran deep beneath the sands
of their still infinite depletion.
the creations that seemed small.
Absorbing yet another wail of wrong.
They can't go back. They can never
come back as they were. The horror
has a way of drawing near to every
innocence of eye.
now they dream as if some devil
entered them and took up residence.
Running, always running from
those armored tanks possessing demon eyes.
Each time they blink their eyes, they hear
another blast begin. And oh, the agony
within their sighs. Crawling closer in the day.
They live to keep the demon's far away.
The ones they failed keep at bay today...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2004 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .