Who's war

Twisted metal the world it's gates,
Liability noted never the stakes.
Painstaking clitches among red tape and ditches,
Sorrowfully pain rides our skies..
Heavens littered with technical witches, clothed in metal, bestowed with riches as trails of smoke wave good bye and a million distraught ready to die...
But anger bestows the world with glitches,glossy posters and robust pictures.
Terror strikes our hearts out right as darkness envelopes our days to nights..
Oh metal warriors creep the land, a simple bacteria to hold and stand.
An unfortunate sample taken by few, blown a kiss, from them to you..
The innocence taken by the hand, dragged and killed, maimed by the land and the hand of man.
Authorities stand tall and true, a picture of human rights from them to you..
As days escalate and torments run riot, a dot in the sand seemingly not so quiet.
Patients waiting among the gloom for a new rising from that pulsating moon..
Oh hand that has the vice grip on the land, hang on tight. As tenders rape and stand a new, with a terror message from them to you...
As demons fly with a cause,
The world breathes and takes a pause..
Scrutiny must be appeased, as a whole life form is brought to its knees.
Curdling screams pinch the night, yelling and pleading doesn't ease the plight,
From the hand that clutches the grave in sight...
But as the world begins to whisper, a new order the good news twister, but all the while the earth blisters, like an unnourished sister.
Gentle giants stand, Angels ride the sky and cry, as they watch them kiss their loved ones good bye and sigh...
Oh world what have you gained?
Painful faces light up our graves, blackened hearts with mind like knaves..
Too many horrors line the corridors, see through barriers and glass doors..
Seeping slowly through our pores.
Terror mans first grip a horrible existence ,an ego trip..
Power and money a just cause,
Shows how we unleash our many flaws..
As for love is hungering and flesh never restored, the buriel of dreams behind a glistening red door...
A touch in the dark to make us think, a deserving shove which makes our drink..
For life is a gift , once taken never restored, a heart broken, the soul starved and floored.
A peace offering heard by so few, a message here from them to you..
(This was written on30/10/2001) by Rakel duca 

Tags: metaphor, dark,