* DISCLAIMER: I draw writing from life (more often than not the overly romantic/Gothic person who lives in my subconscious),and although deeply personal my writing is not always about ME personally.
It seems all that was, was fight all around.
From every window and porch, brawling
and babies bawling.
Politics, history, race and religion.
Nothing came easy on this particular night.
Each of them dosing the chemical fission.
Triumph was had, battles lost, but not a one rested easy.
No peace.
Anger and angst, frustration or perhaps ever fear,
not a single trigger could cure one, the plague of emotion.
The petulance raged, long into the black.
Even the weather couldn't seem to fight back.
When soldiered wrongs lined up tall, staunch, drawing ever near,
and good was seeking the horizon
it seems as though Humanity itself collectively fractured
splintered
under the weight of it's fault.
And tears were shed, voices horse, and conversations
stretched beyond the limits of sinew and bone,
where spirits lay waiting, shivering,
fetal.
Time, however, is on our side,
light is inevitable,
the sun breaks through,
and the soldiers retreat,
the petulance ceases,
and the child is calm, asleep in his crib.
Only the day to day, and yet we still live.
