For Whom the Bell Tolls

 

Wounds mark the pride of men…
As a blackened, massive roar fills the crumbling sky
From the mysterious glow…angels descend
Soldiers do not know if they have live or died
As their noses sift through the sulfur filled air
Blackened wings outstretch, bidding light farewell
In the evening, on the eve of darkness
What is pure is now rotten
What was cherished is now forgotten
A night…a long night is to come…
What was so long granted
is to now become undone

a prevailing wind blows, and over that old hill
a tune beckons these deafened ears…
as old liberty sways on and on…
in time, it would become the greatest comfort
to know that God mourned…

Reviews

[Su' Nacnetaf]

The title seems to be one of Metallica's songs, am I right?
However, it doesn't matter where did you find inspiration, this is indeed a good poem. "Wounds mark the pride of men", interesting line, but a bit too clear I guess. I'm still trying to figure out the "angels descend" part. Great writing.