Poetry-Thing Thursday: Last Setting Sun

There is naught but madness,
where once there was peace.
Therein lies badness,
morality deceased.
Hold tight to your hope,
but don’t let it bind you.
The bad men are coming,
they’re right behind you.
You can’t hide anyway,
when they’re under your hood,
and inside your pocket,
your home and your heart.
Raping and razing.
Looting precious art.
Stealing the young ones.
Pillaging the lame.
Hating the lovers,
whom love without shame.

Even those that made them,
are not immune,
they’ll eat you or chew you,
either way you’re through.

If only each one,
could put down their hatred,
it might not be few,
then we’d know the future,
wasn’t black and blue.

Until then we stammer,
and stumble to run,
Terrified that this,
be our last setting sun.

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