The road never changes
Only the seasons
The ghosts pass by
Murder at twenty-three
Adultery at twenty-one
Produced a son
The madness at thirty-nine
Twin sisters
The children of time
Twenty-four, they would scream
The hanging whore
The road knew more
Number one seen all
Predicted the fall
The great and the good
Misunderstood
The road was the end
The very end
She screamed at number five
Number four knew why
It was her time to die
The children played
At the gates of time
They would sing their songs
Like the nursery rhymes
Twenty-three and twenty-one produced a son
Cried the sisters of time
They knocked down her door
Killed the whore
Killed the whore
She saw the crime
Just in time, to scream
Why, oh why
She had to die
She had to die
The road knows why
The seasons pass by
The seasons pass by
-
Author:
Paul Bell (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 26th, 2022 05:56
- Category: Gothic
- Views: 43
Offline)
Comments4
What comes to mind having read your piece is that we all play some sort of a numbers gamble but nothing changes..... we are in perpetual motion.... history repeating.
A really enjoyable read with the events of today in ukraine haunting one's thoughts.
Yes, we're all in the game of life for a time.
Haunting and daunting poetry
Telling me tragedies as it weaves
I could see the war that sweeps
A good imagery with a number in count
Good one dear Paul
The war on time never halts, as we see today.
She crammed a lot in .. in such a short space of time ...................... I have known several individuals who could very easily fit the bill ................. this is one of them that needs to be read over and over and once my foot has stopped tapping on its own .. I'm pretty sure I will .. lets just call that a literary experiment for now shall we .. N 🙂
A day in the ghost clouds. lol
Wow. Powerful lines and scenes.
Did it scare you.
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