Poem: Nuclear Winter
May. 12th, 2018 09:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sherlockian_synThe seconds go by,
approaching ever closer to
the proverbial edge.
There is no edge.
The words we choose
not to say are the real
poison.
A peace treaty
signed in blood
is only paper.
It can be burned
as easily as any bridge.
You know that.
Ignore, bury, forget.
An empty bottle of wine,
mouths emptied of words.
The end of the line.
approaching ever closer to
the proverbial edge.
There is no edge.
The words we choose
not to say are the real
poison.
A peace treaty
signed in blood
is only paper.
It can be burned
as easily as any bridge.
You know that.
Ignore, bury, forget.
An empty bottle of wine,
mouths emptied of words.
The end of the line.
