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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #1812109
the aftermath of war
the sting from this bee was more potent than before
no pollen no nectar
the flowers out of commission
wilting a death brought upon only of its own accord

now the sun that once shone
will darken your eyes
and the peace and tranquility will be
your devils demise

the once early chirping
will be no more
imaginations of heaven
travel through the sighs of the poor

the laughter of young
the laughter of old
will remain together forged in a book never ever to unfold
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