tick tock, growling thunder,
fire falling from the sky....
the ghosts of death
walk among us....
with faces we can
almost remember, almost...
nowhere to hide!
cant wipe the taste
from our lips....
we look in the mirror
at swords drawn
and bitter eyes lost
in the blindness and the fury....
self destroys self...
tick tock... this aint Jesus calling!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Powerful and dramatic. Excellent piece again Eric. Regards. Craig.