Beneath a Tree with Poisoned Leaves

A short poem of sitting and watching the world burn

Colors once o’er ruled these flowing fields
Now blue and black and white and worn
I sat beneath a tree with poisoned leaves
And I perceived a world’s a-maddened mourns

Stains of red of men now dead did dot the snow
The old already dirt beneath the freezing storms
For slaughter it’d been since serpent rose from water
And the father had abandoned them in all his forms