Dark Tower

An entourage files, sheep of our land, led by silver leashes in soiled hands. Thoughtfulness, honour and compassion never appeared. Drained and bitter, draped in fear. Agonizing puppets dance to royal rules, hovering over silent bleeding fools. Empty towers await footsteps new. strangers gloat towering over you. Sobbing incessantly whilst barren tombs wait, reaching for solace behind St. Peters gate. Gutless complainers, thousands deep, listlessly born in nights forgotten sleep. Marvel the coming of Heavens new sun, bask in its beauty, freedom has begun. Feel no remorse leaving earths baked crust. Cross over gently, cross over you must. Written by: Melvina Germain