From Moonday To Sinday - a Week of Horrors

From Moonday to Sinday = A Week of Horrors On Moonday the orb above turned red, Awakening the famished dead. We've been beating them back ever since, And still, when I bash their skulls, I wince. Duesday brought the settlements of all our hates The weaker perished at their gates And the strong forced it all into balance With their array of fearsome talents. Woundsday followed with storms of blood, Nothing could stand against the flood of wickedness unfettered; It's power to destroy could not be bettered. On Thirstday we drank deep of every vice Every depravity indulged at least twice. Then we rested, numbed and barren, While all around, the scent of carrion. Fryday came and we set it all ablaze, Moving along towards some final phase Before the coming of some closing end Now that chaos was our only friend. On Shatterday the world shook with fear of itself Though there was no longer poverty nor wealth, But just an equality of misery, Spread far as ear could hear or eye could see. And at last Sinday came, When, properly accepting our blame We scant survivors lay down beneath the impassive sky In weary hope it might tell us Why.