THE SCREAM (poetry Monthly)

Why has the sky turned an ugly blood red?

Wind whirling and swirling round the pain in my head?

And I open my mouth but can’t utter a cry

As hither and thither the deadly darts fly

All poisoned with hatred and envy and greed

As the pedlars of death watch humanity bleed.

I stand on the bridge over rivers of sorrow

And hope it’s a dream and I’ll wake up tomorrow;

But they’ve come for me now so I know I’m not dreaming –

And they’ll drag me away, still silently screaming.