Dandelion

Dandelion

Recollecting my memories…
They all seem to fall out of place…
A patched quilt...
A burning rose…
A sickening melody, the screech of bats…
Adding continuously to my woes…
A thundering promenade of demons and the like, crying for retribution!
A nauseating drumbeat,
With gnarled hands,
A beating crescendo,
Dragging my soul to sands,
Where was my salvation,
Where was my life?
Why am I fading to sorrow and strife,
Why those demons, with their long stride,
Beating drums, and obnoxious pride,
Could live and walk and breathe?
Why are we not all dying, falling to our knees?
Why have my people, why has this race,
Come alive and powerful?
Where were my gods, where my peace?
A thundering promenade of demons and the like, crying for retribution!
But they cry the blood of the slaughtered, we cry tears of gore.
And so it has been,
and so it is,
and will be forever more.