The hangman turned the page
Of his mother's favorite book
Looked into the prisoners eyes
As his apprentice tied the noose
He whispered in their ear
The last words of his father's truth..
...On these silent streets
the wind it speaks
To what's underneath
Everything you believe
Is just out of reach
Out by the pastures
Your Angels and Demons meet..
...On that open road
the river it flows
To the afterglow
Everything you hope
Is out of your control
Without a single prayer
Your Angels and Demons know.
-
Author:
Edthepoet (
Offline) - Published: March 7th, 2021 18:27
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 36
Offline)
Comments1
not sure about your message or context of content, but
I salute your tremendous prowess for tightly woven rhythmic brilliance..
I can only assume this took a few redrafts to come out so smooth in delivery,
brilliantly executed in my humble opinion
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.