Twelve Deaths of Virtue
Hear me O' fragile one.Hear me for I am the sound,
The sound of your fears
When your heart begans to pound.
I am the breaking glass.
I am the moving door.
I am the crying child
That crawls helplessly
Across the floor.
I am the misty form
That flies across the moon.
I am the cackling crows
Pecking your eyes at noon.
Hear me O' timid one.
I am the midnight's gong
Striking twelve deaths of virtue.
I am the killing song.
One takes innocence.
Two strikes down peace.
Three murders patience.
Four kills comfort's ease.
Five bludgeon's honesty.
Six steals compassion's breath.
Seven invades kindness.
Eight carries hope's death.
Nine eliminates all goodness.
Ten replaces love with hate.
Eleven shoots down gentleness.
Twelve opens Hell's gate.
Listen O' Dying One
For I am the sound.
I am the wind that brings
Your enemies around.
Listen to the music that plays
Throughout the night.
Listen to the voices screaming
That all is not right.
Just Listen!
Kathy Lockhart
10/24/06
Poetry by Kathy Lockhart
Read 2224 times
Written on 2006-10-24 at 19:34
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