Aluu 4

When the mist is gone,
And the stitches finished,
But wounds not healed,
My sub-conscious, painting the scene
As I quiver in fear
Of the human race.
Wake me!
Eyes flash, back
That unfolded october cold finger,
Poking my nerves.
Eyes stare in disbelief,
And a Jaw sagging beneath,
My reach
I raised my voice,
Half-crying, half-cursing,
Murderers!
Beasts!
Shocked beyond the ordinary.
Out of my solitude,
Rode my voice, on echoes

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poem by Seyi Wright Jr.
Added by Poetry Lover
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