As the world lay in ruin, I asked myself,"Did it Pass?" Did the horrible war that forced us to conform,Did the preachers whom to God they're sworn,Did the witches,Died of execution form? Is it past,The reign of terror?The fog through which is unclear.Is it past,The devil's wings,The angels' halos,The Bibles opening as they praise,"Forgive me, I've sinned, O Lord,"Forgive me, I've sinned."Praise me through your Son,"Your Holy Spirit,"And your image through the Lamb and wind"? Is it done,this war we've won,Now that no one is here? Is it done, The Lives we've gunned,Now that the fog has cleared? Is life worth living,when all your loves are lost? Is life worth living,When your God has crossed? Was there really a point,Through all this fraud,When judgement has been done? Was there a point when the bombs flew,Or when the men yelled "run!"? Was there a point, When everyone knew,That absolution was not enough? At this point,Suffice to say,Where does Optimism come? I wonder,I wonder,If I may,What would I want to Say? To a world of ruin,A people so forlorn,Why would we want to get back up once more? Because,Unlike books, We always forget. A pencil on paper,Just as memory,Dissipates. If I'm the only one left, Then so it will be.I will forget, and so will the new He. Perhaps,For a time,We'd all be resolute,But after a year or so,We'd begin to convoluted. A memory fading, And soon we'd be at peace,Only for once more,A war to release. 

This poem is about: 
Our world


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