The brave and the frail are sacrificed on the same altar,
Cold seizing hands fondle them, imitating security,
But this forfeiture has no saviour; its end is foretold,
The last gasp is from a man, who was destined to falter,
Someone who demanded peace and heaven for purity.
Feeling every jagged knife sink deep in a heart, now cold,
He feels pangs of betrayal, mistreatment and deception.
You can go on coveting the charms of this great error,
But you have no right to feel, nor want, nor even to live.
Justice and mercy are callous ghosts of your perception,
That rise from other committed souls that share your terror.
The love in your sorrowful eyes was never yours to give.
All is stolen, so join the thieves with your life as your prize.
The end is a dream of a kind Mother with loving eyes,
Having sharpened the knives and prepared a soft place to rest,
She smiles with arms outstretched, welcoming her child to her breast.
-
Author:
David Wakeling (
Offline) - Published: November 8th, 2024 17:19
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 21
Offline)
Comments4
Sharp raw and savage it’s sparkles with darkness. My favorite part is the last few lines that send a shiver down your spine.
Thank you so much for your comments.
We will all go there in the end David, some more peacefully than others.
Andy
I hope so. Thanks for your comments
Raw emotion, extremely well written
Thank you compadre. Much appreciated
You're welcome
Amen. "Cold seizing hands fondle them, imitating security," leads into a well scripted summary of this world. Sad enough to be true. Nice.
Indeed.Thank you for your insight
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