Destruction Makes Power

For want of threads of dialogue

A city heads down to the morgue,

And there the ill-fated bullock

Got its horns wrapped around a deadlock.

Out of hatred

Destruction makes power,

Life once sacred

Is spat out like dry powder,

Things gone to a head

Now fall down dead.

Syria

She is by horror haunted,

Rhymes with myriad

As a bomb-tide erases the wasted

Until those 40% bleed or sleep.

The darkness is complete.

Akpan