In the darkest side of peace,
Holds the asylum for sanity,
A place of quiet shindigs,
Where the birds sing to hyms of melodious enchantment,
Beauty shared alongside love,
Dinner’s a thing to rejoice for,
Sitted inbetween the twinkling stars,
But every dream became shattered by the trigger of anger,
The sites I know to be pure have turned to charcoal,
My stories will steal away your hiding tears,
Causing an explosion of sadness in your emotional galaxy,
The stories I hold will sip away droplets of your smiles
Leaving you lame and broken down with a sagged jaw
The Home I know is now where trouble rules,
Ruling us all, with it’s golden crown of chaos,
Castrated our rights,
Yet feeding us hunger, sorrow and death,
The Home I know is now the headquarter for disaster,
My people have fallen,
some, are calling,
But even those who hear them seem to be running
Whose going to save them from this nightmare,
Maybe it’s just a dream,
I’ll stretch my hands to the sky to end the night mare,
So we can all wake up happy as the moon yawns tomorrow.
©da shy poet