I Witnessed It

The Untamed Ink

I Witnessed It

By The Untamed Ink

Wed 08 Feb, 2017 21:59:34 EAT
436 Views | 0 Comments | 26 Likes

#elections  #hope  #violence  

I Witnessed It

I witnessed it
Jubilations of belated planters sparkled the streets,
And dexterous chants of the favorite tune,
Their eyes loaded with hope and satisfaction,
That demeaned their known plights and agonistic existence.
The accretion would thrutch a volcano off base,
They were all in love with the impendent modification.

I witnessed it
The rain came and the planters cast their seeds.
Each seed asserted to be hunger driving,
And a country building,
With their hearts pregnant with hope of ultimate harvest,
They waited.

I witnessed it
A drought intruded and scorched the seeds,
They were halted from their sprout.
The planters still grasped the hope of harvest,
With readiness for a combat to facilitate the germination,
And queries leaning on their faces,
Why the drought now?

I witnessed it
They lost patience and gained antsy.
The drought armed their minds with violence and malice,
And scrapped off affection from their hearts.
The immortal frith suddenly vanished,
And replaced by a hot-seat in the midst.
I closed my eyes but they remained agape,
To see the planters ruin their own soils.

I witnessed it
The wind gybed and so did they,
Immortal flames danced on the roads,
They were ferocious and emitted extreme coldness.
Enraged planters stood by the flames,
With pangas of contempt smiling in their hands,
And rungus of inanimation on their shoulders,
They slayed each other with their eyes closed.

I witnessed it
Rivers of blood overflowed the streets,
Sackless souls plead for compassion as they scattered.
The weak flinched desperately as they evaporated.
The favorite tune turned to a woeful melody.
Mortality became the incumbent chief.
They were blindfolded and motivated to fight.

I witnessed it
The fight stopped and the eyes opened,
An entire realm oozed blood,
The burghers were wounded and scattered,
Like sleeping sheep portended by a hungry lion.
The roads cauterized to ashes,
And beautiful houses caved-in and buried the homes,
Uncovering a permanent wound invented by the blind planters.
We started from the scratch.

By The Untamed Ink
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