The Chimes

Sometimes all I cry out for
is the ringing of the wind chimes,
their lengths aiding the shimmering
Lost in the waves of the sunlight,
my head struggles to find what’s right.
The ringing ticks of my head,
corpses everywhere, of the dead
thoughts that I believe had led
my credibility of this world.

But questions questions everywhere,
and not a single answer they bring.
A nuisance is this need,
to know everything is greed.

Leave alone the mysteries of this world,
but they won’t listen
a mayhem they will bring.

Simple things leave the loudest scars,
invading the nature is another war.
But you, me and we are lost,
in greed and vengeance and at what cost?

Our lives.
That’s the cost.

Picture Credit:  Zombie Apocalipse by andrework


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