War Is At Hand

Under The Cover Displayed By 
Madam Night.

Gears Are Made From The Dead.

Turned By The Last Ones Bones.

War Is At Hand.

Dark Grows  Darker By The Day.

Blood Will Flow.

Red Will Taint Grey The Snow.

Screams Will Litter The Skies.

Many Might Survive.

Most Will Be Dead.

Some Will Evil In The Sum Of 
Ways.

Portraits Will Be Painted On The 
Battleground.

Questions Will Be Whispered.

How Did We Miss The Signs.

Again.

Days Will Second For One Hour.

To Be Prepared.

To Be Armed.

But  Unfortunately Out Fate Is 
Too Late.

Dawn Is Breaking.

We Are Out Of Time.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2013

Poem

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