The sky was black

and the ominous death was prowling,

we ran screaming into oblivion, the dark Pit

of Hades took solace in our misery. We were overlooked, but the

masses were reaped, the Father of Doom was gathering his children unto

him. Watching genocide and carnage will the bell toll on an on, tolling

sad notes of melancholy despair. You washed your hands in blood for there

was no water, just silken crimson that ran like rivers in the streets, the

well and the faucets. Bodies strewn about like lifeless dolls, some with

out limbs. Women with their eyes gouged out, victims of murder

and rape. Men dismembered, their captors took pleasure in

hearing their tortured shrieks. The braying of monsters like

a many air raid sirens, heralding destruction and dread.

Tired, Needing, Wanting,

refugees run in chaotic

pandemonium. The country

is on fire, and the blaze is

leaping higher, higher. Twisted,

grotesques creatures crying trying

to make your fleshy insides spill

onto the heated gravel. Slicing, tearing,

scratching, clawing your entrails,

your life's fluid flowing. We sit upon

a doorstep seeing all of this occur.

One by one, all of my friends disappear,

Maybe kidnapped, raped, killed,

eaten missing, fleeing. They are

all gone. Hope, Love,

Kindness, Friendship, Peace. What does it matter?

I am still alone. Death, he walks the city streets, no longer

taunting, teasing life. Others do his job for him. He too is alone,

nothing left to seize. Now, I court Death, he sits on the porch with me,

being my quiet companion. He is not a monster, or a haggard old man, or a

handsome youth, no, he is just another. Trapped by concept to be evil and

unfeeling. I alone see him suffer, but it is his duty and he must do it well.