Thursday, May 26, 2011

On Tornadoes

The songbirds cried
for all who had died
during the screaming of the mimes

These demons sleep
in shadows deep
as the world
falls on hard times

What sense can be made
of a senseless blade,
the wretching pain of despair?

This world a knife
that cuts out a life
when your usually most unaware

No comments:

Post a Comment