by  K.D. Senior 

A fallow wind falls and the people are ill,
The elders never talked to the snakes,
for the words of men Kill,
but their bodies are laid to waste upon the hill,
they all burn in Subartum!
Long live the King of Subartum!

In a lake of fire they writhe,
while terror tears at the flesh,
and they are burned alive,
mothers and fathers will weep,
even with no tears left to cry,
In the land of Subartum…

Boys and girls scream,
yet the world stands still,
we turn our backs,
while they stack more bodies upon the hill,
the ones that scatter everywhere,
soldiers shoot to kill,
For the king of Subartum…

Rubble marks the graves where they say good-bye,
they say their prayers one last time,
as fire rains down like thunder,
from the sky,
when there is nothing else,
In the land of Subartum…

Desolate Subartum!
Who will bewail thee?

The featured image is licensed to Cristian V. under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license.