Author Information
ARMAGEDDON OF SELF
ARMAGEDDON OF SELF
(T. Beechey)
Minute by minute,exact yet infinte
How long has it been? It seems out of fashion
But reason is not an afterthought
In this grand scheme of indecision
Each morning erupts what the evening corrupts
Skylines dips to kiss the horizons
In between are the victims unseen
The huddled masses amidst calm and collision
Straddling borders of chaos and order
Nothing is sacred in times of delusion
Everything's a maze enveloped in haze
Speckled by hues of exiled seclusion
As glimpses are taken by what has awakened
Past the scope and into each vision
Spanning the ages,quelling the rages
Which exist tapered in muted confusion
Lines are drawn while laughter goes on
In these unknowing moments of yore
And those echoes deafen those which are left
Reverberating for time evermore
Laughter is silenced by the throes of violence
Which claim victories with tainted scores
As a single tear flashes ,lingers then splashes
From a wide-eyed gaze which time will ignore
But somebody knows
As each teardrop goes
Without notice
Upon barren floors
