Dirt

A Poem by Le Thi Thao

I've lost beauty for this world
as it spins on the axis of
its past and sings
the song of the saddened
cries of sin.
Death has touched my face today
as he looked upon
my cheeks with sharpened
wires
and cut into my eyes
the sight of the blood red fires
of hate and the murderous
desolate dark
that follows this blindness
like the shadow of doubt.
I became an angel today
with weighted wings
entwined in Death's hold
painting them beneath
the blood red moon
listening to the Earth sing
its echoed songs of pain.
I become lifted tomorrow
from the untimely hold
of the repetitive past
whispering for Death's
eyes in the endless cold
of sanity.
There is no beauty in the world
save for the thought of slumber
and the memory that
before the cyclical demise
of perversion,
there once were flowers
on this Earth.