Depth of Terror - Poetry

in poetry •  last month


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    A heavy feeling in the heart,
    As the sun sets outside,
    Every day a puppet run show,
    To the end,
    All the way to the end.

    Instilling hatred,
    No measure of compassion,
    Taken to death by drowning,
    In this river of sins.

    A frail thought of hope,
    Desolate in action,
    For that road ends where hope begins.

    If a change was a reason to change,
    Then things might be so it always was,
    For any chance.

    That river,
    Where we drowned our terror,
    Held it all down at the bed,
    All the skeletons of the past.

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