Ebb and Flow

Even in your sweetest and hauntingly enchanting of dreams,
I hear the silence of the resounding agonising screams.
The day my weary soul was sold,
was the day my heart wrenched, so cold.
The cymbals clash in a thunderous fury,
in the name of a figure thought too lowly;
undeserving of recognition and credit,
for the empire that fell and rose insidiously.
In midst of your placidity
came a price too great to pay;
from now on I shall not pity
the ones you punish or the ones you slay.
But I don't even recall a single day
where a nation ruled with kindness thrived,
for the heart of life was taken away;
the stronger axed, and the weaker knifed.
Your benignity attracts your prey,
and the fire burnt out will never be rekindled.
Bit by bit the throned will rot and decay,
by his subjects he will be coaxed and swindled.
It'll be all too late to realise prey is predator.
They will seal your fate before you find a closure.
Because the test has not yet arrived,
and those who have not died, will never know how it feels like to be revived.
And you would have thought you survived.