The world becomes a pin prick in the sands of time.
Earth shatters as humanity prospers
laying waste to the United States of America,
rising out of Uncle Sam’s nightmare.
The taste of blood becoming stagnant in everyone’s truth
turning the truth of peace into the equivocation of destruction.
The refreshing rainfall beckons over the horizon…
Ashes of the nearest cities fall;
Un-seeming sight of boils follow the smell of sick, leading to the screams of anguish;
As the eternal heat burns form the inside out.
The taste of comfort long since vanished
where mum’s bangers and mash grew stale on a kitchen counter.
Somewhere a horn is blown, causing blood to run rampant; wherein
the petite wings of insanity bring about destruction,
tramping out entrée non autorisee.
Allowing comfort to be found in sin.
It seems humanity is to fall,
by no means other than mankind’s own doing
bringing the “Sun’s tears” to descend upon Earth
tears of mankind’s own doing.
Soot torn edges of Pipe Long Stocking’s book
in a blackened shell of a school house,
neat little messy script spells out Esther-Irene.
A tear is shed for the innocent.
Perhaps hope is to be found in the most unlikely places…
A green angel who helps
to bring forth renewal,
buying time as snow covers red.