precocious angels,
badly wounded,
Lives lost
In the hell of loss.
Grief, anger for those who are left behind
Without hope, they have nothing to look forward to.
The silence, the deafening sadness at the bottom of the soul, will never be forgotten.
Where did we go wrong? they ask.
The thoughts hurt beyond imagination
and pain begets regrets.
Catastrophically drifting, they are left,
without a parachute to fall the mental.
In a tragedy with lost souls
Justice is to return lives,
Impossible! But it had to be avoided.
Yesterday's guilty silences of the law
on the rails of pain there were screams.
Spring, tender dreams flew high
suddenly, without a wish without, a hello.
Why did the postman of the law sleep?
Why does he wake up after the scream of pain?
The derailment on the tracks of consciousness
locks dreams in the drawer of memories.
Red lights in the valley of guilt
To remind "Here is the valley of innocent souls".
Like windswept anemones they kiss the soil
some are happy, others are still in agony.
Swallows in the spring whisper hopefully,
there, the memories of fellow students flutter.
Poppies will grow in any season.
"WHY" is always written in red petals.
photo Lisa Che – https://pixabay.com
