Day 197: (Angels And Demons) The Battle For Innocence

For every muster of time there

Is the rawness of rage beating

On the face of a demon.

Where civilization lost to the

Faces of scorn, the multitude

Of angels are at war with

Demons from depleted rivers

Wrapped around the shackles

Holding man prisoner to his

Own endeavors.

There is the follicle of peace laying

In the fold, so near; yet, out of

Touch, out of reach, out of sight.

The rings of fire behold every

Fearful child who now stands

At attention in allegiance to a

Monster of things dictating to

Them they must join his army

Or suffer the consequences, and

Face the fetes of the damned.

Demons congregate inside in

Hearts and minds of man,

Swallowing every once of sanity

That burns in the night, due to the

Fever rising in pulsating rhythms

Leaving man to feast his eyes on

The masses imploding unresolved

Truths buried among the dead

Who continue to walk in bondage.

Demons of the night slay all

Innocence engraved in the minds

Of the young, transforming them

Into the embellished of a society

Where drug lords and grave diggers

March into the sea with their own

Solace to hold onto.

Their victims become the blanket

To the earth, resting their bleeding

Desires on a bottle of booze they

Cradle in their arms, given to them

As payment from the demons controlling

Their better judgment.

For how can the masses subside

In shallow graves where disease

Of the heart rises with each fatal


Then stench from their rotting

Souls enlists the help from zombies

Bursting out of their graves

Who walk the earth in search of

Lost children hoping to reach

A climactic rectitude of their song.

For it is the music of the heart

Playing on as they march down

The path of death.

Golden valleys echo their voices

In the wind.

Where grassy areas once chimed

With their graceful stance,

There now rest their burnt out blades

Immerse in the ashes of the flower

Children who used to dance

Through them on their way to

Strawberry fields, letting the music

Of their hearts fill them up with thoughts

Of dandelions, sunshine, and lollipops.

How can this breach of time falter

Into the unknown where man can

No longer recognize himself.

For his face has metamorphosed

Into the horrors he strove to get

Away from.

For he has now become his father

Where his fold is now the beholder

Of a raging fire consuming the young

With every drop of poison shooting

Up into their veins.

When will the sun return, giving

Them a lifeline to cling to?

Where are the geese keeping

Them in touch with the chains

To reality?

Maybe they’ve had too much

Reality in the bitterness of cold

Biting down into their flesh.

For the children of scorn drift

From the angels of mercy who

Strove to beat out the demons

Ways in their molted hearts.

Where is the end leading them

Out of their broken homes,

Bringing them across smoky

Mountains, leading them back

Into the sunlight?

© Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2015


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