The horrors of the past
Come rushing to the light.
No way to close the door,
No way to stand and fight.
A bell is loudly tolling,
The time is drawing near.
Time to throw the key away;
It's time to feed the fear!
More Like Birds
I'm a poet,
Not a swindler.
I'm just here
So you can remember:
They say a picture's worth
A thousand words.
But a thousand words
Are more like birds.
They'll fly anywhere;
Over the sea,
Through the air.
They might even nest in hair.
They stick to the bottoms
Of worn out soles,
And under the hats
Of weary souls.
Words describe
Things not seen.
Unlike pictures
That aren't as they seem.
A thousand words
To fill a page.
A myriad
Of seas and glades.
All contained
In one's head,
Not in a book
Under one's bed.
Words make paths
Meant to be followed.
They lead to places
That light up faces.
Whole worlds
