Sirens.
The police search the area,
The dogs baying
And men yelling.
The civilians stand
Under the cherry blossoms
And sunshine.
Waiting for the signal
That all is safe again.
The people are one creature:
All the same size
All the same clothes.
No movement
Except whispers.
Lips humming.
Hiding their accusations;
Leaving them in the open.
Who?
Who did it?
Who killed the King?
Her red hair waves
As she watches them.
Her sword sits on her hip
Matching the color of her hair
And hands
High among the cherry blossoms
She sits,
Avoiding the policemen
And dogs
And shouting men.
Her eyes shine.
It is the first time she has seen
The civilians questioning,
Thinking,
Living.
The Keeper sits on high
Looking down
And laughing at the herd














Comments
Some of the parts like the beginning sound like you're just hitting enter on a paragraph rather than flowing lines together. .-. good all the same, Dori.
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♥
...yeeeah, Shana was getting to my head a little bit.
I didn't realize I was thinking about her 'til halfway through the poem. .-.
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I'm too cool for a signature, so there. Nyah!
...wait a minute...
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♥
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Come on now. Is that anyway to talk to your new boss, landlord, and all-around overseer?
Thank you.
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I'm too cool for a signature, so there. Nyah!
...wait a minute...
--
Come on now. Is that anyway to talk to your new boss, landlord, and all-around overseer?
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