The Silence Poem by Daniel Sims

</>the rolling of the tumbleweed fills the air,
like the starting of a jet engine once did,
the noise and joy of a fun fair,
has long ceased, with tears amid.

the streets of new york and beijing,
empty as the starless sky,
cries of babies no longer wake the sleeping,
for babies can no longer cry.

smoking barrels of metal reapers cool,
relentless they ring in the ears of those,
who lay around motionless within a pool,
of others intertwined as if pulling a pose.

their eyes reflect the horror they saw,
their bodies show the wounds sustained,
the last final fateful flaw
of mankind, the world is drained.

somewhere distant, a hen marks dawn,
but none of the motionless stir to the noise,
instead they lie on, within themselves withdrawn,
evidential proof that man on man destroys.