Lurk's Compendium of Dark Poetry (LCDP)

"The Iron Fist Beneath the Flag"

Beneath the flags that pierce the sky,
The war machines are born to die.
A force so vast, so cold, so bright,
It swallows day, devours night.

The strongest armies, built for war,
With steel and blood, they crave for more.
They wield destruction like a sword,
And answer only to their lord.

Nations tremble at their feet,
Their shadows drown the crowded streets.
Their missiles soar, their tanks ignite-
A terror cloaked in silent might.

They claim their cause is just and pure,
To keep their people safe, secure.
But in the dark, where deals are made,
The lines of honor twist and fade.

For power doesn't come for free-
It thrives on death, on tyranny.
Each bomb that falls, each gun that fires,
Is fueled by greed and buried desires.

The strongest stand, but at what cost?
How many lives are burned, are lost?
How many dreams are crushed to dust
When power's wielded without trust?

The burden on their hands is great-
To guard the world, to hold its fate.
Yet in their grip, the scales may tip,
And plunge us all in endless grip.

They owe their people blood and sweat,
A duty never paid in debt.
For every weapon that they wield,
Another soul lies on the field.

They speak of freedom, speak of peace,
Yet violence never seems to cease.
The stronger they become, the more
They stoke the flames of endless war.

So let them know, let them be warned-
The power given, though adorned,
Is fragile, like the lives they keep-
One misstep, and the world will weep.

For when the strongest fail to see
The weight of their own tyranny,
The very ground beneath their feet
Will crack beneath the war drums' beat.

And all they've built will turn to ash,
As nations fall and empires crash.
The iron fist beneath the flag
Can choke the world, can make it drag.