Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2015
There were shades of tranquility
    aching 'neath civilization's cry,
still blood was shed amid glorified
  borders of battlefield's convoluted calling,
each magnified footprint pooled crimson
   filled of ideologue's disenchantment
     midst revolutions of ill-chosen power,
       marching to the drumbeat of fool's gold
poetessa diabolica
Written by
poetessa diabolica
Please log in to view and add comments on poems