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poetry

Requiem

By on July 27, 2017

A time will come:
You’ll be scared of your own shadow,
You’ll seek your kin
akin the ruckus
and clashes of your soul:
seeking atonement for your sins,
BUT there will no time to retrieve your words.

A time will come:
When you’ll have to choose your inclinations,
your fights, and feasts.
A time when evil will trade for evil,
when good will stand on the podium-
to watch the world self-destruct:
A time when bullets will turn to tears,
and wells of tears will run dry.

A time will come:
When we eventually pay,
in kind and in words-
as we behold the seeds of our loins,
turn against each other like a brood
of hungry street rats;
the sins of our youth smeared with
the burden of beauty.
Behold we will run in the streets-
our minds seeking our kindred
as the wicks of our youth pelter
in the blowing wind.

Our fights will end
with clenched fists and spits of thickened blood.
Staring at the mixture of madness
painted in the canvases of time,
and adorned with memories of guile.
The bells of Calvary crying a message of mercy,
waking us to pray for our ending days.

We will hold our chins wondering,
how will we bury men without homes?
how will we cast away such men,
whose shadows are warped in a thousand bloodlines?
Men, whose lives have been nothing but pieces of rocks
scattered in a thousand deserts-forgotten.
and whose real lives have been nightmares?
Men, who even God doesn’t know what to make
of them,
Men, so scarred by life that death feels like a homie

Will there be a requiem for such
on their homecoming?

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June 27, 2017

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