I smell dread in the wind.
Fear in their souls.
The devil hides an evil grin.
Hatred in their minds.
Misery in their hearts.
And happiness they do not want to find.
There's a sadness in their eyes, I don't even begin to understand.
And death in their homes.
The devils hand, guards this foul land.
This land is found, beyond the shadows, where it's too dark to see.
Where no sunlight touches, and nothing grows.
Where the only sound, is the cry of children, who cannot see.
It echos through the streets, the empty homes.
Through the dead trees.
And the quiet tombs.
This place is dead.
With no life at all.
And as it ends, like everything should.
Pay close attention, to everything I have said.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem