Echo
Love thine enemies.
The ground of my soul cracks
In anger when they curse me.
It trembles with the madness
Of a massive army
Of a million chaotic thoughts
That march boldly
Strongly
Faithfully
Throughout the being of myself
And I feel all that is left
Is my ability to hate!
Let them cry as I have cried!
Slay their peace as mine as died!
Deny escape nor let them hide!
Let them by my rules abide!
Their punishment, I shall decide!
Place them on my battleground.
Their plea for help?
Ignore that sound.
Choice of weapon?
I think not.
A helpless them is all they've got
Since all I am is a helpless me.
That's what they think I'll always be.
Put them on sorrow's table.
Let them be the feast.
Invite my list of painful guests,
And fear....
Unleash that beast.
Throw at them the stones of sorrow!
Let them fear what comes tomorrow!
Let the wind of grief come blasting through
To show them that they're human too.
Let misfortune's knife cut them with need
To show them that they too can bleed
Like others bleed with tearful sound
When beaten to the troubled ground...
Like others bleed for many years,
Let them bleed the pain of constant tears.
Marching! Marching!
Are my thoughts...
Marching to what the enemy brought--
A poison of bitter and deadly hate
That will march us all to a gloomy fate.
March I must to a different tune.
March I must to a different choice.
March I must to what I hear....
The echo of a voice
As pure as a dove
Whispering peace to my mind
To calm misery
Echoing....
LOVE
love
love
love
THINE
thine
thine
thine
ENEMIES
enemies
enemies
enemies.
T.S. Wilkins
