Blood Moon Rising

The sun never rose that day.

It only set.

The dusk never came that day.

Only tides of blurred faces of the dead.

The shadows didn’t lurk anymore,

The wind ceased to blow,

The ice wouldn’t freeze anymore,

The rivers refused to flow.

The earth was stained red-

Stained with the blood of miscalculation and failure,

Tainted by the stink of rotting corpse

And echoing the damned footsteps of an expected hell.

Eyes didn’t flutter open,

Valentine’s day was forgotten,

Christmas became the celebration of the dead

And people starved, even past their death bed.

The air echoed the voice of the forgotten faces-

The abandoned children playing in tanks,

The aging man deafened by the demented orchestra of shells

The shrieks of women stuck in a permanent hopeless horror

and the gold-clad minister smiled as he hissed for the world to see,

“welcome to hell,”

Gifts were guns,

The infant leaves grew ruby red as yellow and orange-

The symphonies of glee,

Melted away into the river of severed heads.

The sun glared, annoyed and disgusted.

The moon screamed in haunting silence

As the last beating heart finally stopped,

Frozen at last.

The sun never rose that day,

It only set.

The dusk never came that day.

Only the severed limbs of the orphaned dead.

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