The midnight.
It engulfs the very light that shone upon it long ago,
goes inside the makers of the foundations of this world.
Corroding their minds of the mercy that once held.
It burns into the hearts of the innocent,
turning them black and damaged.
It sticks to the passages of life and builds up,
never leaving its final resting place.
It blinds the many that are seeking for what we need,
destroys the means for survival and happiness.
It penetrates the flowing life line,
keeping Earth's inhabitants clean and thirst-less.
The midnight, it never stops.
It kills its users with the loudest of gunshots,
leaves the many fighters slain on foreign land.
It mixes in with the bloodshed and dances with the soul of man.
It will diminish all forms of life if not left alone.
It will bring the world to extinction.
The midnight, is traitor.
The midnight, the midnight must be gone.
**Note: I wrote this poem in depicting on what I thought of war and its effects. I also came up with the midnight part because it's the middle of day and night. I symbolize day and night as good and evil and war as a between. What other way you would like to use as your explanation for this is fine, it could be endless of possibilities of what this might mean to someone else.
