The world is on its knees, sobbing
Like a woman bereaved of child.
Vicious bats fly all around,
Squeaking, screeching, with delight
In the blackness of the night,
Save for some faint gleams of red
Spilling from the bloody moon
All but hidden by the clouds
Enveloping the world.

Copyright by Dennis M. Cortes 2021

(Photo by Todd Cravens on Unsplash)

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