People Are Just No Good
A Twisted Verse by Matthew Tonks
Blossoms budding in the spring, wicked writings say no thing,
Plural final numbers fall, while silence starts to sing.
Broken bones that haunt the glass, nervous moments misunderstood,
A half-stitched scarecrow stares within—and whispers, “none are any good.”
We dance on graves of yesterday, the soil no longer warm,
We build our heroes into gods, and battle against the storm.
The smile we paint is just a disguise, a trick of flesh and fear,
Each word we speak a twisted lie, to keep the truth unclear.
The mirror groans, the blossom wilts, its soil turns to mud,
The scarecrow grins with empty eyes, its straw soaked through with blood.
We reach for the light, encased in a box of wood,
And a purgatory of judgement just repeats the claim that people are no good.
💬 Did this one echo?
Tell me—before it forgets your name.
—
Written by Matthew Tonks
→ Read more twisted verses at mtonks.com
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Twisted Roads - Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks 
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