A Poem by Curtis Graham III
Once, upon the morrow,
In the midst of grief and sorrow,
Beings and Existence shall fall.
No savior may we borrow,
When life perishes to-morrow,
And the rats and carrion flies shall stand tall.
All that is will be gone,
The history of this world that was long,
Has become a forgotten wasteland.
We have all been greatly wronged,
Now the dead shall sing their song,
That which was holy shall now be damned.
The world was presented with lies,
Answered only with silent sighs,
And then they dropped the bombs.
Still the heat continues to rise,
The corpse has become friends with the flies,
And the bell tolls its death bong!
Copyright 2003, "Little" Curtis Graham
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