The Feelings

When words are crafted as bayonets

Feelings become martyrs 

Muffled voices do narrate the pain

But steely hearts rejoice hurting the Spirit

Arousing the dreadful moments, and

Entertained by the savage scenes

Death is the only future we are aware of

Vain is the glorified pain

Fate will be crafted from tearful moments

The convulsive moments predict a fate

For the oppressors of feelings

Time will give the same judgment

Or, even dire fate awaits

When words are used for sinister deeds

Beautiful feelings die before blooming

Only withered buds are reminders

Of the beauty of life©