21 December 2012,18:00
A setting sun, a rising moon,
Air thick with definite doom.
The sting of a mighty iron beast,
Rings through the sky without cease.
The day has come,
The newspapers read,
The day humanity,
suffers fatal bloodshed.
And once I was told,
That when so many hold
An iron fist,
Peace cannot exist.
No chance anymore,
Fate is knocking on the door.
When the device is dropped
We will know,
Our certain end cannot be stopped.
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tearkneee
Writing poetry happens to be the way for me to live happily. Oregon, 17. I play guitar, paint, draw, play video games and eat.
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