Sleep in a nest of needles
The queen of stones fitfully
Dreams of fires below her
Ever tomorrow's trouble
Sometimes you can see people
Chanting desperate, proper
All they hold melts around them
Death always for the humble
Fiefdom gained through extortion
Bread always tasted like fear
Work void of holy purpose
Her praise they wheeze through rubble
Tyranny normal evils
Freedom dreams that never were
-
Author:
Quemis (
Offline) - Published: May 16th, 2019 14:36
- Comment from author about the poem: ...
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.