What does the future hold?
What troubles will it bring us on platters of silver and diamond?
How many tears will fall from the small faces trapped in the poverty of the world?
Sad times are coming closer each day, as if they were riding on horses made of evil and sin.
Darkness is raining down on us like shards of glass from a broken window far above.
All hope is gone, as if the sunshine has never existed, there is no such thing as 'The Dawn of a New Day'
Cries of the tortured fill the smokey air.
"There's nothing," they wail. "There's nothing left."
They chant this for hours on end, just to cover up the sickening screams of those closest to death.
Every nightmare has come to life.
You can choke on the hopelessness in the air, if you don't die from something else first.
There is no such thing as a happy ending.
All that's left is death.
But even death weeps silently as he looks down at us.
What happened to the world?
Even in our final resting place we suffer.
There is no hope for something better.
No change is coming.
There's nothing left.
We are not survivors.
We are the tortured souls.
YOU ARE READING
The Words In My Heart
PoetryThese are my mood swings. They surprise me sometimes, what I write. And I don't know if they are any good, but here they are. The Words In My Heart
