What Comes of War
By bdgrey
Rocky ruins span the length of time, as cracked metal sleeps in flustered dreams. Fog so thick it pains tired eyes, with no end in sight, lifeless it seems. A dusty air where once thrived light, chokes sick throats and burns dying lungs. Nothing aside from troubled lying sight, glimpses a future bleak at the gallows hung. Complacent with a sense of coalesced worth, failure became clear as disbanded they stood. Armies died vainly to spoil the earth, with nothing left to show but life pierced by wood. A river bed dry proves to be a valley unhinged, as a foretaste set after the end finally came. Now all that is felt is a soul left to cringe, not at the past but at a future rejected and maimed. Our posterity may never forget what has been done, for nothing will be left by way of the gun. Throw down the arms and extend the 'branch', for peace is worth living and not something blanch. Written March 16th, 2002 © on Mar 15 2002 04:06 PM PST 0 • 1
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"Rocky ruins span the length of time,..."