virgins of the praerie

A Poem by winter;lyra

these mad boars
done chased the babes off the praerie
betrothen tools, these fools lack providence
their virgins deprived of the touch of God
they will see
no Mary will synthesize amidst their tribes
and find path in the sands' immortal coffin

open their tombs, sovereign pigs
then their wombs, solemn kings
albeit silenced, evil still reeks
in those most innocent
hunger for loaves
grows into angery growl