This is it.
The night is black.
Day is gone.
It won't come back.
The fight for life
Is finally done
But our friends have yet
To lay down their arms.
We watch them, invisible and unseen.
We cry silent tears and cry silent keens
For magical blood, lost and shed
For the family we'll never see again
For the death of ones doing good
For the wounded and maimed and
For what could have been
And should have been
And now shall never be again.
But all is not lost.
There is still hope.
It is fragile, yes
Not but a ghost
Yet hope is hope
And still we hope.
The Final Hour by thenewandawesome
Story Notes:
This is my first poem, so please reveiw! I want plenty of feedback.