Oct 14, 2014
MAGAGULA
Clouds draw & dim The sky scarlet. Stars clear the night To the nauseating stench of murder in the air. Sent in haste to meet the maker as a sentence is passed under heaven. Pleas fall on deaf ears as seeds to fire incinerate. Flames gutter the soul at the stake to blind witnesses without tongues. Blood boils as rage of these malevolent executioners flares. Pyre sans of rites & tyres as Red cedar necklaces. Has the good lord forsaken a life that ends unceremoniously?
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