deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Holy Land ...
A land soaked in red,
innocence lost to the storm,
peace choked by the blind.
Beneath this scorched sky,
young blood seeps into dry earth,
grief roots like a wild thorn.
Fears creep, voices fade,
swept by the biting winds' call,
hope turn drifting dust.
Who's right, who's wrong—will
that matter much when all's gone?
Just silence screams left.
innocence lost to the storm,
peace choked by the blind.
Beneath this scorched sky,
young blood seeps into dry earth,
grief roots like a wild thorn.
Fears creep, voices fade,
swept by the biting winds' call,
hope turn drifting dust.
Who's right, who's wrong—will
that matter much when all's gone?
Just silence screams left.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 0
reading list entries 0
comments 0
reads 35
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.