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

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