Too Late:

No sword or quill
Or words whispered
Upon bent knees
Or silent thoughts
Will one know the truth
Within thy own heart
For in the darkest folds
Lies truths forgotten by us
But we’ll remember
After this life is no more
For they’ll be written in blood
On pages of pure white

Vagabonds:

cry not for them
cry for the ones lost
cry for those who
turn away not seeing
cry for my soul
for I saw not God’s hand
keeping my pence’s
only for myself

Tears for tomorrow:

Tho, life entered
into their view
Eyes close
to what’s seen
Mind’s give
no thought
Lips held tight
in silence
Yet we
scream from within
Know us,
for who we are
Life passed on
No one remembered

What Next:

The youth are gone
now stands those
who look back
to times lost forever
Replaced by the cries
of sirens and flashing lights
the back firing of cars
for the pops of 9mm’s
and screams of pain
What'll they tell their kids
will it be about red snow
or crimson rain across streets
where even police
are afraid to go

Quiet Thought:

Signs everywhere
Dos and don’ts
Tomorrow never comes
Yet is already gone
Life freely given
then quickly taken
No tear was shed
they dried-up long ago
Laugher uttered not
For only the dead
now scream