PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The forced locks of elders break free

and slide off her fingers.

Innocent eyes follow towering legs

but can only watch them fade into the distance.

She chokes on her words, on her screams,

as tears rendezvous and silence her.



A whirlwind of giant bodies pass by.

Cries are heard from the stands,

but not like the cries from the innocent,

for their cheeks are dry and tongues still flapping.

Do they see the loss of innocence?

Or do they just wander and ignore?



Like rats in a maze they race back,

to their cries, away from innocence.

The beasts horns rise high as mountains,

people stare in anticipation, he whips, they cheer.

Innocence bleeds fear, searching... waiting...

eyes bursting... pores crying out for justice.



Creatures with painted canvas faces rise

from their hogsheads absorbed with laughter.

Running in circles for the amusement of others,

the rats, the beasts, but not the innocent.

She hears the Indian's song as the equine gallop.

Will anyone reclaim their innocence again?



~*~ Jill ~*~