Looking at the world beyond, I see a horrid sight.
Of people dying, earth is crying, lands are plauged with blight.
And all the people cry out, “Save us from this plight!”
It is a stormy swirling bowl, of wrath poured down on us.
With wars abouding, cannons sounding, faces turned to dust.
And all thier gruesome weapons will soon pass away to rust.
The earth cries out in torment, for the weight upon it’s back.
And the people hoping, in darkness groping, for refuge from the attack,
and all will face the ground, and thier sanity will crack.
Blood spilt from the pores of the ground, the sun it turns to gray,
and lost souls flying, ever trying, to find thier own away,
or seek the fallen fortune that comes with each new day.
Despair rains down like fire, upon the burning ground,
and torment rising, people realizing, its terrible iron pound,
And all the good and wonder, is drowned out beneath the sound.
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