Season of Violence by Cheryl Griffith

It's a festival of blood 
A season of violence
Fear bubbles liked a boiling pot
Rising like steam 
Above chattering heartbeats
Light crawls back to hide
From the shock of terror
Under the blanket of night
Whispers of prayers tickle the air
To spur our faith, restore our innocence
Or perhaps purge the blood-stained land
With hearts so penitent
Tomorrow will be different
Tomorrow will be different

Copyright Cheryl Griffith