Trip Back to Hell

January 12, 2008
By Jessie Murphy, Lynnwood, WA

Whispers, silence

The secret violence

Fear, anger

The hungry danger

Evil spins and mixes with good

Nothing happens as it really should

Words kept in

The age-old sin

Our jealous whispers break the dawn

As empty soldiers carry on

Hands open, cupped and ready

The emptiness holding strong and steady

Our Mother’s silent cry of fear

As She watches the death of her child come near

The world spinning, all too fast

Humanity, too sweet to last

Earth reclaims what it begot

The fire eats what it sought

Pivoting slowly, a child’s game

The world corrupted, never the same

Children’s laughter frozen on the wind

As we blindly let the Devil in

A holy fire, sacred and warm

Cannot weather the ferocity of a broken storm

Blind hope and empty trust

Those without power do as they must

Continuing helplessly, caught in between

The Mother of us all cries at the future she has seen

Our dream finally is coming to a close

Those who see are frightened of what reality shows

They preach; quick, hold the ones you find dear

The end of the world is coming near

The wind buffets and slams the doors

We are nothing more than Mother Nature’s whores

The bastard child of a woman unprepared

We are the scares that nobody shared

Out of grace, the already fallen fell

And now we take our required trip back to hell

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