who's decide what will be?
Gently the river weeps for those lost.
a blatant show of love forgot.
The sky mirrors what today has been.
The fire red clouds are hard to miss.
The Demon savors all he's brought to his side,
a maniac laugh even the Gods cannot deny.
Every man rode into the battle,
knowing what was in store.
Did they not wish for just a moment,
that they had sat behind closed doors?
What is strength without belief?
What is courage without honor?
An empty little pot sitting alone in a corner.
My sword shines wickedly still
while the men's wounds scream.
A thousand ants now march in rhythm
to turn the red in to green.
A battle lost, a battle won
never seemed to matter in my dreams.
I wish waking up was an option here
And all I remembered was the stream.
4 comments:
best piece ....awesome...:)
Beautiful piece of writing...very much like it :)
awesome one !
loved the last two para's of the poem.
Post a Comment