I suppose it is hidden well,
Till it rises with the tide's swell.
The secrets of a community
That must flee, cry and plea.
For a chance to just exit in the quiet of their home
Living a life free to the things I do, to openly roam.
Shunned, burned, hanged and slaughters
Wait for them, their sons, their daughters.
And, I suppose we ignore it too
Because cruelness we shall not do
To others for differences in being.
But, being kind is not the same as seeing
The trees cut across their path
Others ready to pour out their wrath
Of hatred so strong as to explode into fires
Bombs weaved together with deadly wires.
Accusations await them for lives deemed unfit
And if with neither group I am to sit,
I have struck the match by which they will burn
Far I have given them no place left to turn.
About the Creator
Laura Lann
I harbor a deep passion for horror and fantasy, often heavily mixed together. After a tumultuous childhood, I find myself often writing about family dynamics as well. In my spare time, I can be found drawing or painting.
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