Poem By Not Long Left
the twisted broken copse turned,
the violence of it last flight,
a conviction of its atrocities.
down the rocky cliffs face,
broken limb repents its sin.
gravties victim powerless to protest.
Death, decay, piercing pain,
blistered charcoal burnt bodies,
in a fozen orgy of death.
forgotten faces, thrust into the ground,
see the faces, in there most painful pose.
babys bodies nestled in there dead mothers arms,
there heads, , mashed into a crimson pulp.
blood allows a river of lost life,
flooding the once surburban street.
tears as pointless as pity,
water just does not jusify.