Red in Pieces

in #poetry7 years ago

Walking through tombstones,
filled with names of young fallen crying angels,
the night keeps calling my name,
a name I had forgotten,
a name that smells like burnt candles and dried roses....

Only dust remains where my skin was,
ashes and tears,
and beyond this place,
a country slowly dies killed by the mob ruling it...

This is the end...

As the lizard king once wrote.!

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