The Mad Dogs Howl
They eat your flesh
The Mad Dogs Howl
The mad dogs howl, they dine on flesh,
Their feast is warm, their grip is fresh.
Through shattered doors and broken glass,
They hunt, they tear, they snarl, they pass.
A lonely cry, a gasping breath,
A city choked by running death.
Their laughter gurgles, wet and low,
A sound the dark alone will know.
The streets are dark, the night is long,
Their hunger drives the endless throng.
By morning light, the world will see
What beasts were loose and what must be.
Their footprints soak in pools of red,
The gutters choke on all things dead.
The howls fade out, but in their wake,
The night still screams , the rooftops shake.
No morning bells, no voices rise,
Just hollow homes with empty eyes.
A silence thick, a weighted dread.
The mad dogs feast, the town lies dead.
The sun climbs high, the sky turns pale,
Yet still there rides a phantom wail.
For though they’ve gone, the whispers grow.
The mad dogs howl. They still lie low.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (2)
One just has to learn to listen in new ways. Good job.
Very good work 👏