Bloody Dawn

A cycle of poems «Anamnesis morbi»

As night surrenders to the break of dawn,
A crimson canvas paints the sky with scorn.
A bloody dawn, a harbinger of pain,
As darkness yields to a gruesome game.

Bloody dawn, the morning sky ablaze,
A testament to violence, in a deadly haze.
Blood stains the streets, a macabre sight,
As echoes of anguish pierce the bleakest night.

Soldiers clash, their weapons unleashed,
A symphony of steel, their spirits released.
Bayonets gleam, bullets tear through flesh,
As life ebbs away, leaving only a mesh.

Bloody dawn, the morning sky ablaze,
A testament to violence, in a deadly haze.
Blood stains the streets, a macabre sight,
As echoes of anguish pierce the bleakest night.

Innocents caught in the crossfire's plight,
Their lives shattered, consumed by the night.
Families torn, their hearts filled with dread,
As blood spills like rain, leaving loved ones dead.

Amid the chaos, a glimmer of hope,
As voices rise, begging for war to stop.
But their pleas are met with silence, a scornful sound,
As the cycle of violence continues to resound.

Bloody dawn, the morning sky ablaze,
A testament to violence, in a deadly haze.
Blood stains the streets, a macabre sight,
As echoes of anguish pierce the bleakest night.

As the sun ascends, the carnage subsides,
But the wounds remain, both deep and wide.
A bloody dawn, a reminder of the cost,
Of war's relentless grip, its lessons forever lost.