OUT OF THE MIST

Colin Hunt

Out of the mist

Into the firing line
Marched the enemy
Of the human Kind
Wheeling the axe
Of tyranny
Dark and evil
We could see
The empty sockets
Upon their heads
Deep and lifeless
But not yet dead

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

LETTER TO MY 14 YEAR OLD SELF

AS SHE GOES by David Erdos - Poem 17 from THE PEOPLES PRISON

THE GIFT OF HISTORY