Machine Man

Beautiful skies of blue, red, orange, and pink, Blackened to ash, dust, and shades of grays. All for the spoils of a victorious war, or so they think; Explosions, of decisions made excluding Morality, go on for days, The bullets and cries engulf the skies. Murder machines placed into shaky hands, Leaving behind the many teary eyes. Man taught to hate, under the country’s demands; The puppeteers continue to command, Placed in front of a mirror, the time bombs of this world. An ominous, eerie void left in the land, Broken souls unraveled. Perhaps some day the hate will dispel, dissipate into love And Peace will arise from the ashy skies above.