The Moon Cried…

The moon cried…
  Blood red tears, peppering
    the corpses of victims of crimes
     perpetuated below…

The moon cried…
  No! Each time Lachesis measured a
    too short and brief a life to children
     born to live below…

The moon cried…
  Stop! As each child, curious to explore,
    dressed in red, and hooded, skipped
      to the forest, unwitting lupine sacrifices, below…

The moon cried…
  At the signet rings worn by everyman
    its eternal symbols, portraying pestilence,
     famine, endless wars and countless deaths below…

The moon cried…
  As each hand soaked in blood
    mistreated, shaped and twisted all
      it touched, when encountering life below…

The moon cried…
  When finally, time ran its course, the fates
    with no destinies to spin, or measure, or cut,
      waved farewell, as all surviving life below, died.