Flags of the Beast

by John L. Thompson

It started out something like this
In the end we were just walking blood drops.
We allowed ourselves to be lulled and bought into the false dreams.
We allowed ourselves to be controlled.

Its the days that count,
The days have no end and blur into one another
The end had come, the end of days
and we had failed miserably.

The dirt had burned
and turned everything an evil black.
The skies were dark ,
with a hint of burning orange on the horizon.

I walked over to a valley edge.
The valley below was filled with all of humanity.
The Beast gorged itself on the walking blood drops,
dipping its beak to the valley below to pluck the fruit there.

The vengeful wraith flew up in a cloud of dead dust,
scattering the people and I fell back,
and I saw the flags of all nations
lying limp in the dead winds.