Sign up for the Knite Life Newsletter to receive blog updates, book updates, free offers, giveaway opportunities, and more!

Knite and Day Publishing will use the email address you provide in the form above to contact you via email with information regarding books published by under the names Clara Coulson and Therin Knite, other information pertaining to Clara Coulson and Therin Knite as individuals, and marketing related to the urban fantasy and science fiction genres in general.

You may unsubscribe from this list at any time by clicking the unsubscribe link in the footer of any email you receive from Knite and Day Publishing or Clara Coulson or Therin Knite, or by contacting us at author@knitedaypublishing.com. For more information about our privacy practices, please see our privacy policy. By clicking the sign up button, you agree that we may utilize your information in accordance with the aforementioned terms.

Poetry: Innocence Lost

hearts ripped open to reveal balled-up paper notes inside
unfolded to proclaim the lies ingrained on young, impressionable minds
and who’s to blame for guns that blaze in hands too small to form a fist
when shredded dogma statements rain from jet expulsion tails like mist?

the soldiers on the march in morning turn the tides of never wars
by sitting silent at their beds while hands guide missiles on toward
such souls as dangerous as laughter of the children in the sun
and death of dandelion wine is how you know the end’s begun

what do you say to crowns of gold bestowed on heads so gray and slight
that their shadows slipped through bars and out of prison in the night
and haunted desks with buttons pressed to bring the world to kneel,
what world is this where money buys the labels “false” and “real”?

line by line and columns wide as oceans on the moon
stand graduates of mills designed to build ignorant dooms
and blank-eyed stares are all the weapons they can bear to raise
as drills dig deep to strip them of times lost to better days

hearts ripped open to reveal weights as heavy as the sun
that drag the future’s children into Minos mazes yet unwon
and so they scream, ignored by those who chose the lethal costs
their cries are stifled by the wounds of pure innocence lost

Leave a Reply

avatar

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

  Subscribe  
Notify of

%d bloggers like this: