Thrice the Tragedy (the Surrender, the Salvation, the Sin)

A Scar is Born

...Catastrophe struck thrice in the form of surrender, salvation, and sin,

Revelations of revitalization are blurry once the black clouds congregate and the toxic thunderstorms begin...

We hibernate in the hospitals of our hometowns, hoping that this pseudo sense of security will shield us from our sins and shine salvation on our shattered souls,

Looking up to the hawk infested sky as those brainwashed birds desecrate our dreams while defecating on the tattered white flags hopelessly hanging from their rusty and pliable poles.

The sun extemporaneously explodes like an atomic bomb over the horizon and salvation is swallowed by the sadistic sea,

We live in a land where for ignorant inmates, prison costs not a single penny...but for hard working citizens, freedom is forbidden and far from free.

In the spring, you can smell that sweet scent of salvation in the celestial sky, but the falling bombs over Bethlehem and Brooklyn manage to pollute the antiseptic air,

Only the enemies possess the antidotes and remedies for this war, but the self-centered sinners aren't welcoming and willing to share.

...Devastation derailed our deepest desires as the Devil made us his personal prisoners and pantomimes,

Visions of vivacity are foggy as the gray sky suddenly captivates the sun and takes it hostage while the world commits suicide three times...

We cower in the corners of the concentration camps of our own communities while covering and concealing each contaminated battle scar,

Peacefully fluttering in the fields of freedom when abruptly the satanic Czar captures us frightened fireflies in his trustworthy trap and seals the airtight jar.

The oceans, out of the blue, are drained of every ounce of salt water and become polluted with an everlasting supply of blood and oil,

We live in a territory where the luxurious lust lavish lies and the prosperous possess the pills for pleasure and the placebos for pain...yet the majority of Americans no longer feel safe, secure, and sound on their own soil.

In the summer, the heat and humidity feels like we're residing in Hell's hottest layer, yet we fail to realize that the wretched warmth is from an infernal flame commencing at a contaminated concentration camp,

Only the opponents own the livid light, but they already extinguished the inferno and selfishly shot out every single streetlamp.

...Wreckage welcomed the wretched warriors when a wicked witch whistled, whimpered, and whined for her wiry wand to transform rapture into torture times three,

Hallucinations of hope are hazy as the white flag is tainted with oil and blood while our hometown Hitler hails, "Under my reign, the doves will never again fly free"...

We weep in the wrecked homes of widows, on tenterhooks that soon we will no longer be suffocated in another day, another shade of gray,

Shedding a tsunami of tears as the sulphuric sand swiftly and promptly pours down the hour glass…taciturnly ticking our tragic tales of torture away.

Our hollow hearts are depleted of any remaining blood and are filled with a thicker type of fuel showcasing a splendid shade of black,

We live in a country that pulsates and palpitates poisoned and pillaged promises, yet we persist to believe the B-U-l-l-S-H-i-t and accept the fabrication as factual while excruciatingly getting stabbed by a bayonet in our boneless backs.


In the autumn, the fragrance of freedom falls from the naked trees and fills the fields before the fighters trample and march over any signs of salvation…causing its unfortunate, frigid fatality,

Only the adversaries acquired the magical water from the sanctified fountain of youth, but they simply spill cyanide on our scarred skin and pray for more poisoned pleasure as we painfully plea.

...Misfortune made the malignant mannequins murder the mafia and terrorize each newspaper and TV,

Images of independence are opaque as the orating Orion is annihilated by Artemis and inaugurates three times the tragedy...

We hide in our hometowns' hospitals, hoping that our shattered souls shone with salvation and are shielded from our sins by this pseudo sense of security,

Gazing up to a Satan swarmed sky as those blasphemer birds defile our dreams while despoiling the feculent freedom flags failing to forfeit their feeble country.

An atomic bomb extemporaneously implodes like the sun in surrender's silent sea and salvation is swallowed by our sadistic sins,

We live in a world that loves to play the incessant innocent assassination and elimination game...failing to realize that in the sport of war, everyone loses and no one ever wins.

In the winter, you can marvel at each unique snowflake as it falls to the ground, but on impact the once white snow somehow sadly stains the battlefields red,

Only the antagonists attained the precious key to be allowed admittance into the afterlife, but you can't resurrect, rescue, or revive redemption once it's already been pronounced dead.

...Calamity clouted countless corrupted clocks in the form of surrender, salvation, and sin,

Revelations of a renaissance are fuzzy after the black clouds of betrayal assemble and the tragic thunderstorms commence to begin...

Disaster departed our dreary, dying, and delicate dreams on Doom's Day as the Devil decided to roll the diabolical dice,

Turmoil tattered and terminated our troops and we threw in the toxic, taboo towel as tragedy took its terrible toll thrice.

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