Where All The People Are Dead Poem by valerie shiflett

The rain poured down so heavily
As the flames continued to spread.
Destruction was brought upon the land
As all the people bled.

Bodies littered the filthy streets
As blood formed streams, formed rivers.
There was no time to mourn the dead,
Time spent from voices quivered.

I'd say the sadness ruled the land,
But destruction was its king.
Nothing stronger than this power,
No higher, better being.

Many cry themselves to sleep,
Though most are without tears.
And the few that decided enough was enough,
Their heads now dangle on spears.

There was one who managed to change the world
Not through actions, but words she writes
And although she is dead, her death foretold,
Her words seep through the night.

'Our blood flows through our veins
Like it flows throughout the streets,
Our guts connected inside of us
Not strewn around like meat.
How loud are our voices
As we scream in pain?
Why is we speak in whispers
The anger that we've claimed.
Are we so sad, so pitiful,
We can't stand on our own?
That we tumble down and crawl away
Just of the words 'The Throne'
We are ourselves, our bodies ours,
Our life we control.
The king should not be dictating
Every place that we go.
Use your voice, your rights, your screams
Turn the king's orders into pleas
We have a job to do, peace to return,
To establish liberty.

And the crowd roared, the people cheered,
But in the end she went alone.
Straight up to the castle,
Straight to the throne.

And soon she was hanged,
Her dead body shown,
The noose clung to her neck
Like destruction clung to home.

Now when the rain pours so heavily
And the fires continue to spread,
Remember destruction rules over this land
Where all the people are dead.