Poetry

A Requiem for Hope

10:05:00 AM

Monotony of hollow tones,
It echoes in a ghastly mesh
Of used and bruised and broken bones,
And languid blood and flaccid flesh.
The starlight paints a cheerless clef
Unsung by thrashing thunderclap,
Unheard by howling tempest, deaf,
Undone by cloudy overlap.
Aroused, the crescent nightly eye,
With second-hand incandescence
She peeks and seeks to satisfy
A grim, morbid concupiscence.
The bayonet still yearns for red,
The trigger craves another touch,
The turret wants the cannons fed
The Creature, just a modest crutch.
It witnesses a game of die
Among the tickled gods of men:
To bury or to let it cry,
Or mend it just to break again.
As lips eke out a final plea,
Mortality and Death elope,
The soulless ghouls all dance in glee,
And celebrate the death of Hope.


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