This poem was inspired by the appearance of the sun through the smoke this morning.
The world looks up at the sun
Bleeding its life away
Masses wonder if this
May be their last crimson day
The blood of the sun washes out
All that we used to believe
Row upon row falls to its knees
Even the madmen grieve
The moon grins in the veil of night
At what its rival became
And now as glory bleeds away
It sets itself aflame
A bleeding sun and a burning moon
Overlook the dying earth
And some newborn babe will know
Nothing but pain from birth
Huh. I didn't envision the poem to go in quite that direction. Other than the break after the second stanza, I rather like it.
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