The moon sends her breath
lending beams true
inadequate spectrum 
that doesn’t reach the earth.

Somewhere, in the outskirts, under darkness’ vision
three silent figures saunter in unison
leaping over rubbish, over tin cans
temporary relics from last night’s bash…
steps urgent, evilly gauged
noiseless, desperate, evenly spaced.

They stop at the building
with bright white eaves
sharing whispers
that sound like sobs
one brings the rope
it fits like a wonder
and they all climb fitfully
to the other side.

Dark red steps, six with fire 
sprint right over the black lawn
three wanton messengers of a society’s ire
ambling even, unto the tiled floor.

Now, while they are within
cries rend the night
voices of horror
with sure spurts of blood.

And when they are done
the sobs subside
no voice is heard
no footsteps follow
just night’s and silence
as they climb back down
Nothing sees them
save this night
as she watches their hem
recede out of sight.

Cross and Crescent call for prayers
Xenos and Natives all reply

The day reveals what the night cloaked…

The moon begins her setting
It’s almost sunrise.

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About PenAStory

PenAStory is a group of young individuals with a passion for literature who have decided to come together to write under one platform. We seek to educate, inform as well as entertain our readers. Also, because we are targeting young literature lovers, we would like to touch on other interests of their lives hence the relationship category and because we all need a bit of motivation in our lives, we decided inspiration won't be so bad
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