erstwhile

days that erstwhile were carefree
now burden laden by worry and woe
we know not what the future brings
as the world we knew brought low
and in the hollow hours between
the dusk and dawn we wait and hear
the marching boots the rolling tanks
the snicker click of closing doors
the whispers in the hallways
the screeches of the whores
selling souls empty and worthless
as naked in their greed they cover
their private lies in the threadbare
blanket of power and false security
and this sad symphony scores
our restless search for respite
some block their ears and sleep sound
as they dream a peace unfounded
until the knock knock knock
finally lands on their own door
and suddenly they can sleep no more