When will I return?
Who can say for sure?
Perhaps when you are ready,
Crawling in the slime that you have created with your own filth.
When will I return?
Who's to say I ever will?
What's here for me to return to?
How shall I greet thee?
With open arms and a loving heart?
Or shall it be malice?
Malice and retribution for what you have done...
War, famine, greed; did you think I would not notice?
You may think your veil is made of iron, but it is clear to me,
I hold you in contempt for crimes of the self,
And will watch as you wither away,
Begging and screaming for mercy and forgiveness,
And retribution that will come
Never more...
-
Author:
StoneLotus93 (
Offline) - Published: December 18th, 2017 00:02
- Comment from author about the poem: Don't remember why I started writing this, but it was most likely written as a piece of contempt for the human race and all the things they do.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 6
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.