Pity slips through Death's fingers like sand,
In the ocean of lost souls greed holds his hand.
The somber silence of dawn born bloodred,
The wind lements the song of the dead.
War watches with cold beady eyes,
Hope swallows the lump she cries.
Love sleeps somewhere in the distance,
As if it would make a difference.
Starvation cackles his hysterical laugh,
Vultures feast on his behalf.
Revelations draws near,
The angel of mercy is now here.
She turns her haloed head,
She won’t mourn the valiant soldiers dead.
She bestows supple gossimar wings,
To the children caught in the middle of things.
This evil rules the heart of man,
Eagerly clenched in Death’s hand.