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Leon Gellert - Armageddon
7 Views • Nov 10, 2014
Description
and the skinny hand of Death
gropes at the beating heart.
The salt tears well and flood
with strife the choking breath,
and nations sway and part.
The scythe of Time runs red,
red with the bleeding year.
Sound is but a knell,
and Sleep has a scarlet bed.
Dreams are wet with Fear,
and Honour sits in Hell.
Leon Gellert
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/armageddon-32/
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