All Unquiet Things

The last signs of life,

At the end of all things.

At the edge of your knife,

Sweet reckoning rings.

 

The executioner reigns,

Say the words he knows best

Your freedom in chains

Your hope laid to rest.

 

The judges and kings,

Dead without trial.

And all unquiet things

Live in silent denial.

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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