Skeleton Moon

A violet sky looms overhead and the blooming bones lie beneath.

Pick them like flowers, the blood fell like raindrops, the ashes conceal so they won’t feel.

Soaked in knowing, wishing everything away, only for it to stay

Chemical swirls, clouds of dust, she stood alone with her hands held high.

Shouting, screaming, stone crumbling, death echoing begging to know why.

No one there to hear, she laid on the empty shells, choking on memories and wrapping herself in fear. 

Winged clocks and creeping time, everyone she knows has passed, everything she knows cannot last.

Fading, hating, wasting away, bullets scatter the sand, far and wide over this decaying land.

Gasoline rainbows breakthrough, rifle-shaped reminders hang low, tightening their noose around her neck.

Wilting orchids, the sun is black, they cashed the check.

And in these killing fields, full of forgotten faces trapped in empty cases, she looks upon the naked horizon fading beneath the skeleton moon.

Twisting fate, engraved within a pattern of hate, the snickering corpses beg her to sedate, for it will all be over soon.   

 “This isn’t happening.” She whispers desperately wishing to undo, living in a painted paradise, if only it were true.

Author's Note

I tried to do something different but I probably failed, anyway please let me know your thoughts.

Reviews

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You never 'fail' when you write, Twiggy, and the most difficult thing to do sometimes is to write without putting parts of yourself into that piece of writing. Your 'post-war', near apocalyptic, write is filled with many truths about war and the destruction of the planet. Images of bullets scattered along the sand, gasoline rainbows (a brilliant one, by the way), killing fields, forgotten faces in empty cases (a powerful image that leaves one wondering how much more destruction will occur in the coming years and decades) and the hate etched onto the face of the planet, all speak to recognizable (albeit unfortunate) patterns that we can tell ourselves aren't happening but know that they are. And the image left by the title is a stark reminder that all things come to an end, eventually. Another well-written piece you have penned, my friend. Excellent work!

[Shah Sabia]

Excellent write, my friend.
You fail only when you stop trying. Since you tried and the try was a brilliant win too, you're a champ. It was a pleasure reading such a peculiar write.

[None]

...a morbid view yet truthful in a sense. Just as your poem's shutter took the grim picture that is now set in stone ...you beautifully end it with denail. a natural born stalker of perception. it is easier to deny your view of the world than to change it by undoing the bonds of social conditioning ..."if only it were true" Me like, me like!

[Emily]

Very nice wording!!
Keep up the great work!

[Bear]

What I think you should do is expand on this and turn it into a short story, there are many magazines that publish this format. You just might end up making some good money while your at it :~) Keep writing the dark side my friend I love it.

[AaronFreitas]

I liked it... I always enjoy dark writes. Anytime you sit down and write it's a good thing... never a fail :) Nice work :)