Frank F. Atanacio Poetry

The dark demons had killed many,
and they reinstated fear,
stole souls without a care,
a glint of light,
from the darkest part of the night,
caught Jenny’s eye,
she was a white winged angel,
from God’s sky,
the dead rising into the clear morning,
and it haunted her without a warning,
a wave of guilt
made her look away,
and her heart would wilt,
the uncertainty she would have
when she’d pray,
made her emotions stray.

Poet: Frank F. Atanacio