The ghosts of war
March silent on
Down marbled stairs
Through dusty halls
Echoes of death shout
Screaming still
Destruction and bloodshed
The martyrs reward.
Bullets fly freely
They dance through the air
Like fireflies igniting
In autumns twilight
The horror
Blind anger
Of mans twisted rage
The legacy growing
Obscured by the fight.
Souls of the living
Cry silent
Ignored
False freedoms
The promise
Dictators of fear
Feeding the faithful
With lies evermore
Captive they struggle
The shackles of war.
Their truth remains hidden
Behind toughened glass
Mans weapons of war
Hang poised overhead
Signposts on walls
Mark battles once fought
The clock ticks eternal
Still counting the dead.
Reah Roberts ©2011
Tales From Behind A Cushion 
Very good, enjoyed the read…