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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Death · #1125488
A very eerie poem. In our time, it might be refered to as an Opposite World.
But the sun never set on the horizon
And the moon was barely a shadow;
There was no wind, the air was thick
The streets and paths were narrow.

And yet the town went about
Its everyday bustle-
The merchants, the buyers-
The everyday hustle.

Children ran naked here and there
With evil wickedness on their smiles.
They grinned at the living, at the dead
Their laughter was heard from miles.

The old ones just sat there-
Raving and ranting,
Young adults hid in their lust-
Puffing and panting.

And suddenly there was a voice,
It was heard by every corner,
And like powerful thunder it said,
“Take the Guiltless to the burner!”

The selling stopped,
The buying ceased,
They all started searching
Like hungry beasts.


They searched every bend, every hole.
It was all decided: the lot was thrown.
From among the impish, among all fiends
Was found a perfect soul- a pure one alone.

A maiden she was-
A transparent gem,
Yet, from all the evil ones
She was condemned.

And she was taken to the burner
Without refusal, without a stir.
And all that was ever left of her
Was a simple, silent bloody slur.

The town went back to its everyday routine
Sitting and waiting till the voice was heard again,
Selling and buying, killing and dying
Probing and searching for the Pure One until then.



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