The Dream

The day ended in a sad tune
A tune of loss, a tune of grief
Or was it the tune of eternal double-cross?
Whatever it was, the tune was sad.

A bird screamed at the top of a tree
A cry of fear, a cry for help
Or was it the cry for perennial tears?
That wet the vision; so dark, so hostile

I was dreaming of a white flag
Suddenly there was a patch of blood
I looked down on me, my arms were missing
Those patches were of my own blood

I woke startled and looked out of a window
I heard the sad tune of humanity
I heard the painful cry of pigeons
I saw the white flag that turned red
And I wished I had never woken up.