What joys would pleasant lines bring?
What fears have they allayed?
Goose bumps still run while on my skin
I still dream of a land better than this
Fears were too allayed
Put down, buried yet not laid
Few there be that sensed the flame
Great there be that knew that name
A statue of chlorine mixed with sodium
Hoist in remembrance as a head filled with opium
In far away sodom;hear gomorrah wailing
Theirs is but the tip of the iceberg
This pen runs on for the desolation to come
My ink flows for the melee 'twil bring
No more will this vocal pen bear barren words
I drew pity for a soul
Photo source : Public Domain
This poem is an entry to 100days poetry challenge.
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