Mist

This one is about crimes that we encounter everyday in newspapers and still remain mum about.

In the misty world of dreams
I see the indigo sky in the vestiges of the night
A big black cloud hangs like a yawn
In the dimlit hours of dawn
I hear a distant train chugging past
The scars that the night left on the ground
In the shadows of the street lights hide screaming voices
Like lullabies, they silence the night
The ears that they enter become deaf at once
And the feet they encouter, become faster
The night is a cruel place
The air shivers in terror of crimes lurking in its corners
But the dance of death persists through the night
And when the sun just peaks above the horizon
Early scavengers feast on the remains of humanity lying in pools of blood.

Author's Note

I believe that a piece of poetry need not rhyme as long as it can be felt. Please tell me if I could stir anything within you?