Spectral Whispers

These words were spoken to me in a dream.

All things Death will claim
Pestilence and sorrows with daggers will mame
The lust for the blood with shadow will blight
Every last human for evil and right.
Tomorrow will turn the cogs of change
Making the sane and the mad both deranged.
The acolytes of scorn will come forth and zealously
Stop the hearts of wealth and obesity.
You will die and so will another,
Someone so close, nay sister or brother
And all those rising in war and in peace
Will break and bow, their lives will since cease.

Reviews

[Stargazer]

Wonderfully moody and dark, bravo.

[Crow]

Much obliged.

[XVCrow]

The darkness of this poem is intriguing and gripping. Thanks for sharing.

[Crow]

And thank you for your feedback.