The Death of the Rainbow

When Darkness,                                                                                                              

              And Hatred,     

                       And Death,

              Held measureless control over all,

No misfortune had ever been so

                            Fatal

                            Or so

                            Hideous

As the now acknowledged  

                    Presence of the rainbow.

 

Blood was its manifestation,

                          And so scarlet stains

           And blood-tinted tiles

                    Glittered with anxious pains.

A multitude of dreams

                   Of life,

                               Of hope,

                                            And of passion

      Died, each in the

                Wretched shadow of a bullet.

 

A bigoted figure

              Exits a van,

              Lets its hatred fly

There was a sharp cry:

                                 "Mommy,

               I love you.

                                   He’s coming-

                                        I’m gonna die."

 

The merriest grew pale,

             Cowering in blood,

     Christened in the horror

                        Of a fallen rainbow,

      Enfeebled by terror of the night.

 

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