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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Fantasy · #2105719
An Apocalyptic fantasy tale.

" In A Winters Wind "

The cold winter winds are howling,
hunger grows harder to sate.
My fingers frozen to the bone,
anger grows inside my hate.

The miles passed by so slowly
but oh how time likes to fly.
Someone is crying so lonely
as an old man refuses to die.

Then someone hollered in despair,
" Outlanders will be here soon."
The single young girls that lived there
right then, pretended to swoon.

Some people lived in the alleys
where hunger and poverty hides
but no one sees greener valleys,
til' those with the power decide.

There's always the bravest young man
who's there just to end the fight,
never a hero turned and ran
but stayed to fight for the right.

When all the shouting was over
and all of the shooting done,
Those lucky, alive and sober
will probably think they've won.

Then all the bravest of brave men,
lay down their working class lives.
The truth lay bare in the open
as flags are held by their wives.

All the hatred under the sun
that every man seems to breed,
lost in the blood of every war won
before passed on in his seed.

So where is all of this going,
are we giving up our grip ?
Is the anger in us growing,
shall we abandon the ship ?

The very last thing we can do
in our boldest of schemes,
is keep our faith in each other
and still, hold on to our dreams.


Finch the light

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