The skies have grown dark, Filled with ravens' wings. I long for the diamond's Gleam of stars, For the cold ice of The moon's grace. But the stars are dull, The moon bright crimson. Blood spills, Cries ring out, And lives are destroyed. Mankind lives in Constant war, With no respect For this planet. We've lost so much, And gained so little. For how many more centuries Must we feel this pain?
Synful Nocturne · Sat Jun 19, 2010 @ 06:42am · 0 Comments |