PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The white mist settles upon the long open road

Cars scattered like toys along the tarmac

The fires rage, as the wind still blows

I tread carefully across the blood covered track



I shall not cut my soles upon the glass

I will not succumb to natures burnt out fury

Cries and screams pour forth, but I will pass

I'll leave the 'truth' up to the jury



I see the injured laying helpless

I watch the dead, laid row by row

Leave the scene, no sins to confess

Of what happened, none shall know



My lips are sealed, closed by my will

I will not speak words of the storm

Memories of past haunt me still

Another massacre maiden born.