Changing of the Guard
by Nathan A. Baker


Smoke from burning tires darkens a bleak sky
Fires, left from exploding bombs, glow in the distance
American soldiers, camouflage clad and armed
Move house-to-house searching for terrorist gunmen

Thirty-one hundred and counting as skies darken
And another night falls upon the stench of burning flesh
Mingling with the sickening rot of human decomposition
Flies, thick and black, swarm in masses lighting to feed

At death’s sticky table; buzzing incessantly, watching
As the darkness covers blanketing all in evil’s dour shroud
The beginning of sorrows… its trumpet sound nearing
All nations one day closer to the bidding of the grotesque

Formalities aligned, black suit neatly pressed, and smiling
The Wicked One will for a spell rule the Earth relentlessly







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