futility (Remove filter)
Grave
Grave
I am the scythe that cuts through old and young
In cornfields where the idle crows watch on
As scarecrows flap their arms in summer sun
And wonder where the greedy birds have gone
The weeds grow now where once the sharp blade fell
Stealing from us all that we once held dear
There are no devils in this weeping hell
Only children transformed through pain and fear
...Tuesday 24th March 2020 11:43 pm
Recent Comments
Stephen Gospage on A Prize Miscast: A Warning to Oslo
46 minutes ago
David RL Moore on Gollum
9 hours ago
John Coopey on "AS SURE AS GOD'S IN GLOUCESTER..."
9 hours ago
Landi Cruz on Gollum
13 hours ago
David RL Moore on Gollum
17 hours ago
David RL Moore on Gollum
17 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on Gollum
18 hours ago
David RL Moore on Waiting
20 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on A Prize Miscast: A Warning to Oslo
22 hours ago
Red Brick Keshner on to be real
22 hours ago