"It Lingers"

Just a poem with imagery as the strong point

The black smoky cloud hovers,

as if a lost dark angel searching.

for a victim of his choice.

The frail tables crumble to the forsaken ground,

sending treacherous thunder,

speeding up each angels spine.

The yellow and golden gates rust before my eyes,

whispers words of praise as it spits at me with lies.

Several angels appear before us,

wishing for yet another prayer.

But the prayer comes not,

simply head nods and empty stares.

We pick our fights and are stuck to the ground,

unable to move the restless feet from their place.

Insanity has located the sensitive minds of the light,

unable to be saved they are dragged,

stepped on,

soiled in the evil frostbite snow.

Lying in our unfamiliar, yet sanctifying bed,

I rest my thoughts until the new sun rises.

Then I will once again rip the chains,

and open a new world reflected through my eyes.