The skies have grown black near the sea this eve.
Even the ocean, muddied, is fit to receive…
The death with follows the tornadoes of war,
Which spread from the shorefront to the steps of each door.
Waves crash and sting the eyes of the weary,
Who stroll through the streets as ghosts: silent and eerie.
Bodies float away and one man with a clipboard,
Counts each one seen with his pen like a sword.
The shelters are gone. There is nowhere to run,
And each man carries his own personal gun;
To fight back the tide of inevitable gloom.
Yet how many bullets will save even one from their doom?
The world is awash with an ocean of change,
Which washes all men and turns them deranged.
They bury the dead in mass graves without markers,
Then walk off with the smiles which living desires.
For who can keep walking on the bones of the fallen,
Without falling too deep into the sickness of men?…
Who have fallen before us begging for mercy;
And died at the gunpoint of their own misery.
The masses walk on with guns in both hands.
There’s no time for thinking. No time to make plans.
Is this war really worth it?…The bodies and the blood,
Of all the life of this planet buried in the mud?
The war continues…there’s no more to be said.
Shoot down your brother so you don’t end up dead.
Yet how will you save your soul from your sins.
For when your body soon rots the real fight begins.
K. Aldaya, 3/15/16
Picture: Originally posted by Gloomy Rules on Tumblr; http://giphy.com/gifs/shark-attack-ocean-storm-thunder-gifs-dOCG720yNqAms