War Is At Hand
Under The Cover Displayed By Madam Night.
Gears Are Made From The Dead.
Turned By The Last Ones Bones.
War Is At Hand.
Dark Grows Darker By The Day.
Blood Will Flow.
Red Will Taint Grey The Snow.
Screams Will Litter The Skies.
Many Might Survive.
Most Will Be Dead.
Some Will Evil In The Sum Of Ways.
Portraits Will Be Painted On The Battleground.
Questions Will Be Whispered.
How Did We Miss The Signs.
Days Will Second For One Hour.
To Be Prepared.
To Be Armed.
But Unfortunately Out Fate Is Too Late.
Dawn Is Breaking.
We Are Out Of Time.
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Comments about this poem (War Is At Hand by Unic Cjonr )
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(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
- Heather Burns
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)