Poetry | Stories | Photography
He speaks to the crowd.
The voice, a sonorous velvet music
lifting the heathens.
Several tongues trace longing lips,
hanging on every word.
He passes judgement.
The crowd become a frenzied mob.
Possessed by his rapture,
they inflict such malicious violence.
Tim’s friends describe him as a quiet introvert. They love his kind presence.
The news ran a story about the rise of an oppressive cult leader.
One friend swore it was Tim, and others weren’t sure; however, all agreed Tim would never do what that maniac did to those people.
C & K 