Stone Cold Poem by Inked Solace

Yellow tents

Flutter

In the wind

They return

Home

To their dead

Malnourished

Impoverished

Abandoned

Onions

Flow from

Their eyes

Like

Purple

Amethyst

Betrayal

Broken glass

Barren







Layers of

Lilac

Leftovers

Mothers

Weeping

Tears of blood

Fathers

Cry silently

At night

Children pray

They were

Anywhere else

They wake

Not to the

Chimes of an alarm clock

But to

Showers

Of golden bullets

As I read

This article

My eyes pricked

With onions

My face solemn

With a hint of familiarity.