To Suit the Manipulators

the pregnant moon

has birthed the darkest hours

before aurora rises they pursue

the creatures of the night

hiding from the light

innocents hounded

the cliff’s edge cloaked

terror’s vicious fangs

seize their necks

blood flows

hot and quick

to stain the scorched earth

that once was verdant

lush with fruit ripe and ready

for plucking from vines and heavy limbs

Trees barren in the end times

monsters rule the dispossessed

God has forsaken them

redemption promised has been revoked

how many chances can a deity proclaim

the story be rewritten? Book burned, vandalized

words twisted, ideal clearly stated now revised

to suit the manipulators





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