Everyone is always

Saying

What a

Beutiful

Sunset

What a

Magnificent

Beutiful

Sight

But don't forget

That monsters can

Be beutiful

That war can

Be magnificent

And yet a sunset

It is still

Pretty

Pleasing

Romantic

Idealic

Such a soft sight

Such a little snippet of

Gentle

Kind

And it is

All those beutiful

Things

But it is also

Death

It is also

Darkness

A darkness on that light

For, why treat the

Herald

Of a

Tyrant

Like a

Queen

But

And yet

We make an exception

(The humans we are)

An exception for this

Beutiful

Magnificent sight

As it bleeds

As it cries

Tears of

Cloud

Just another

Casualtie

Of night

Pinks like watered

Blood

Oranges like

Funeral pieces

Such morbid

Similies

Such violent

Metaphors

For such a

Beutiful

Magnificent

Terrible

Sight.

Things

Cold

Dark

Lonely

Black

Dieing

Dieing

Dieing

Hope.

The final words

Of a poet

His

Rasping

Breaths

Hacking out

Words

Words like blood splattered flowers

What does he say in those

Final

Moments

What

Beutiful

Violent

Things?

The answer

Why, it just behind that

Dark

Dark

Horizon.