Night falls in the city as the sunset basks the populace in orange rays

Elsewhere the fishermen are packing up, they are done for the day.

It’s Friday night as usual, so red cars and red dresses meet

But the young party goers are not the only ones roaming the streets.

 

They lie in wait; in every corner, in every turn

They set homes on fire, they watch them burn.

Their souls are enveloped in darkness; in fury and madness

But all I hear from their voices, is lonely sadness.

 

They shout, they cry, they scream

Their souls longing to be free.

A quiet whisper; Help me!

All they want is mercy.

 

But they got children at home; mouths to feed

So they turn back to their evil deeds.

Like those in a drug filled ecstasy

Their words are like poison; coated with heresy.

 

They finish their work; the deed is done

The night fades away as out comes the sun.

Their family is happy; they live another day

And so Saturday begins in the town of the orange rays.



The Icognito Writer: I had a dream that someone was asking how I write poems so I told him to give me a word. He give me orange and I started saying this poem. I woke up and realized it was a good poem; the mind works in mysterious ways.

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