Dead Men

just a poem


1. dead men


these dead men walk on water 

cold blood runs through their veins

they don't feel the elements prick them

and they are immune to pain

just as if they were floating ghosts 

just as if they were dead spirits that rose from graves

there's a pall on their faces

it tells of horrors seen and endured

they never smile nor wish any good on us

all they want is to see the world burn

they may wear suits or shirts

but their eyes betray a certain glimmer of hungry pyromancy

these dead men walk in pairs 

they don't see the error of their ways

they think that intrigue and scheming pays

they talk in tongues and the people fall at their feet

they smile with razor sharp teeth and a tendency to waste lives

blood soaks their clothes

hypocrisy is the chemical that flows 

through their bodies

these dead men wear hollow crowns

but now the colours are standing out

the anger and pain

humiliation and shame

the memorials of innocent lives accuse them silently

they don't live safely

these dead men walk among us 

like phantoms of death

hidden and embedded like studded diamonds

they have no fear of anything or anyone

innocence is no more 

so why don't we burn these killers?

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