Poetry

Courting the dark words
picking up from beautiful life,
I weave the tapestry-
in circle of silence.

The liberty of blood
had become obsolete.
You wanted one kill, one voice,
one faith.

The acid test shoots down
the black roses.What
about the mass graves as a
signature of victory?

You cannot stop
the bloodbath.As if a swarm
of big bees was ready
to hound you.

Closing the last window
I suffer.I would
never become you.