Page 13 - LockDown Poetry

-------- lockdown poetry --------

The Sky is bleeding, answers seem not to come

from above

War is amongst us, blood from this unseen world a

symbol of his love

Lack is king, the ensemble of groaning stomachs

chorusing our hungry songs

Greed our prophet, virgin muses to him pledging to

fill nocturnal streets with thongs

O Mighty Sky, your flowing blood has led us to this

mad apostasy

Blood from your unseen wound that has shattered

an infantile fantasy

We as your children, Mighty Sky, cry because of this

vision boldly told

For if our source bleeds till Tomorrow, Mighty Sky,

then you're a lie of old

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