Irony of the Fold

Darkness rises with the final fold,
Trickling down in hazardous pools.
They all close their eyes and crinkle their nose,
Assuming the terror is a dream--- what fools.

Sunlight long has ceased to be
Perhaps a spark of realization
Will hit the troubled crowd
Abhoration is the final destination

Dense air fills the lungs
Of choking victims in the grey
You dare not speak the word;
Or in your deathbed you shall lay

Despiration takes its form
Of a crying helpless child, sitting-
Not far from the eye of the storm
Grasping wildly for the pantlegs of the doomed

Lasvicious grace shall take its place
Amongst the dying field; where greener grass once grew....