Sad Thoughts of Madness

Troops lay root to fiery beds of thorn,
Lifted up upon the grass’ hairy maw,
Brought down the jaws crack and creak,
With a bloody barrage of her ballistic rage,
Morrow’s past begins its descent.

But it is all unrealistic,
If only compared to sins treaty,
Rhetoric of causation’s brawl.

The sister’s son blows on,
Fates shrill lute,
Born of a tinted rue,
Its entrails of blue daunted belief,
Forced into entities of vicious bliss,
Men and women of faith,
Bore collapsed resentment on the brick.

He thought he bore a fruit,
But it was of an ethereal soul,
And caused the barren in Lily’s womb,
For the clutch of silent night beckoned.

Reviews

[Country boy183798]

I really like your style of writing, your choice of words, and found this poem amazing and mesmerizing. Great job, thank you for sharing it.