"The Warning"by Roy DawsonI told them not to do it. I said it as plain as the morning sun cutting through a dirty window. No poetry. No flair. Just truth in its simplest, hardest form. The kind of truth that doesn't need decoration because it's been earned—paid for in scars and sleepless nights.But they did it anyway.They always do.They hear the

The Witch's TongueThe sky was still and heavy. I sat alone, listening to the wind slide over the rooftops like a whisper that didn’t want to be heard. That night, God spoke. Not in thunder. Not in fire. But in silence beside the television set. He gave visions. Six or seven, clear and hard as bullets. And one of them — one — was dark enough t