The Desolation of War
In the shadow of a rainy night,
A clock it then strikes twelve,
The desolation there abides,
In the little town.
A bigger city,
Just miles away,
There lies empty too,
As if to sing a lullaby,
A haunted crying sound.
Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust,
The world is torn in two,
The desolation of a war,
Has ravenged through and through.
Stone has crumbled,
And water drips,
And like the clotted blood,
Of a lonely suicide,
Our world, itself,
Is through.
This poem is about:
Our world