Untitled poem, 1.

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Untitled poem, 1.

Post by Lestat on Mon May 12, 2014 8:07 pm

Mangled bloody bodies,
A massacre of the innocent.
Morning children of Gods holy land,
Soldiers are the death bringer's.

A lady in black robes,
Up holding a bloody handkerchief.
Looking up at God with wanting eyes,
Every body screaming there last goodbyes.

Brutal beings we can be,
Wrath is evident when under HE.
To heaven they fly, and souls they take,
They come and leave at day break.

Revenge is what the dead shall seek,
But salvation died at Glory's peek.
All is not lost for hope shall grow,
Love like hope there seeds they sow.

© Lestat de lioncourt. All rights reserved.

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