Waking up.
Cannot see.
Ords of skeletons
Guided to hell.
Cain kills Abel.
Pure children of white drenched and torn of red leaviathans.
A whole humanity slashed by blazing blood splattering.
Gatlings trespassing skulls and brains.
Nothing more.
Nothing more.
Young died.
Nothing more.
Nothing more.
Black sky
Drenched-by-venom eyes.
Hollow.
Your flag triturating bodies for metal shards.
I cannot see.
Nothing more.
Nothing more.
Feb 1, 2019
Feb 1, 2019 at 12:38 PM UTC
Waking up.
Cannot see.
Ords of skeletons
Guided to hell.
Cain kills Abel.
Pure children of white drenched and torn of red leaviathans.
A whole humanity slashed by blazing blood splattering.
Gatlings trespassing skulls and brains.
Nothing more.
Nothing more.
Young died.
Nothing more.
Nothing more.
Black sky
Drenched-by-venom eyes.
Hollow.
Your flag triturating bodies for metal shards.
I cannot see.
Nothing more.
Nothing more.
This is a poem about war, for my great-grandfather,
He fought in First World War.
Most of the people who survived the War were mutilated or crazy,
My great-grandpa was depressed,
When he came back home with his family
He didn't eat anything anymore and decided to suicide himself in that way, dying slowly.