Song of Death

What day is it,
In the land of the dead?
Those blood-thirsty thoughts,
Go screaming through your head.
Hurt triumphs,
Over joy.
Pain wins,
Making us break forevermore.
What is our loss?
What are the fatalities?
Numbers crunching
Like the bones beneath our feet.
Rising rising
Way above our heads,
Is the amount of bodies
Lying,
Stuck in death.
A song rising
Over the corpse,
A ghostly whisper
nearly silent and hoarse.
A melody of melancholy.
Misery crying
Like an army of one.
Single
It travels,
Over the field.
Wafting over
And caressing the faces of the Fallen.
This angel of song,
Memories it brings,
Isn't and angel at all,
But a ghost of many things.
Commemoates the lives
Of the Fallen
On the ground,
sings their stories,
before being covered with the shroud.
Cies for them,
Screams for them,
Weeps for them,
And dances for them.
They were killed by the Darkness,
Murdered and massacred.
An endless battle
With an invisible oponent.
It sneaks in upon you,
Covers and suffocates you.
It won't let you sing,
Instead it send an angel of death
To sing your life's song.

by writingmysoulsdiary
posted on 06/07/2008