It Dripped

It dripped,

Spilling down from the generations,

The ones who knew.

They buried their mistakes

And repeated them in the young.

So, it dripped.

It dripped down the hands of time

Into the hands of the innocent,

The hands of the ignorant,

Of those who knew no better.

It dripped.

It ran down their faces,

It flowed with their tears,

Tearing their hearts from their souls

And burning their minds.

But still, it dripped.

No one stopped it,

The pain, the suffering,

The terror and fear.

It dripped.

That deep, dark red

Spilled from the wounds

And the hearts of the dead,

Destroying their peace yet again.

And still, it drips.