The End of War

I was walking by the river red

Of tears and blood it was made

The hauntings of ghosts’ past-dead long ago

The imprint of the demagogue never fades.

There are times I ask myself

Is this real or just an illusion

But every time I hear the ticking of the bell

I am reminded of man’s eternal quest for absolution.

Does a killer truly feel

Or is he blind to the ravages of time

As flesh rots and the scavengers gather

The victims of fear and loathing gather dust.

Years and years have passed,

But we learn nothing Alas

Every time a diamond shines glowing like hot iron under the bitter moon

Time flies, the heavens cry but the echoes of the past forever last.