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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Edgar Allan Poe
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