Is there even an answer?
When the questions reign
and in their blasphemy blame
everything and all
standing tall
to a calamity untold.
Is there a refuge unforetold
or a grave error not sold
to the wonders of a bereaved, crazy world
that studies its atrocities in the cold.
Not a whisper or a sign
that calms the nerves in the night,
not even a shady look that covers its cry
from being discovered as a lie.
What a day have we revealed
where the questions reign unrelieved
of the burdens of the past
married to a future that can’t last.
One anger joins the raid,
silencing the rage to close its gaze
onto that which is answered
but only as a pale homily ransomed
to shut the eyes
from the bloody mess it hides.
Oh, the questions question their questions
in an attempt to find an answer that suits their festers
oozing with vileness and greed,
finding no resolve in this never-ending bleed.
To this mercy, there is none
so not to be shunned or turned a nun
running out to say there is a place
for an answer to claim its space
is an understatement grown
to a reality that is sown
from the trenches of disdain,
dying to say,
give me one more question to be
without ever stopping to see.
Until the next ❤️ beat ~.~.~
P.S. Using my face not to hide from this disgrace we fear to look in the eye, for a world that deserves not to live in a cry. Reply with yours, whatever that looks like for you!
