Gray sky of steel clings to metal-glass towers,
Choking the life from the the huddled, cold masses,
Pressed like livestock into their pens,
Gasping and sweating as they clamor and squeal,
Iron shrieks drown out the cries of the children,
Men of iron march inward, metal glints in the half-light,
A rising tide of excrement chokes those who fall,
Panicked feet trample the weak and the dying,
Desperation a miasma suffusing the air,
The copper taste of blood fills their mouths,
In a second, an instant, they shudder and fall,
Cruel metal on flesh barks out through the night,
Come morning, only the barest fingers of white,
Claw outward from the blackened, blasphemous soil,
A thousand small headstones litter their grave.
No comments:
Post a Comment