The black briar boy

A Poem by Phonetics

Unkempt hair like
black briar bushes,
Tickle my chin
As I pick the child upon
My shoulders
And wondered at the
Gods that had smiled upon
Him and blessedly
Returned his life
In exchange for the
Villagers below his feet�"
Glowing cinders
And collapsing ash
Of what once were human forms.

The child,
I note,
Did not stir at the ghastly scene
But glared
Onwards to the bloodless
Sky.

It were as if the world
Had gravitated into those
Rich earthen orbs,
Like pandora’s Box, sealed
Without casting out hope
Upon the cursed world.

Without a second
Thought I cast my gun away
And with it my future.

Regret is a useless and
Easily spitable thing,
I realise now.