We were brothers.
We were the best of friends,
Though we had a conflicting blood
Together, we were raised.
Friend;
Like you always said,
We have a Guardian-
Alike, all the same.
You prayed yours,
I worshipped mine
And we felt so secured,
In spite of this divide.
Great times,
Are the signs of the worse
And intimately in line,
Washed the memories we preserved.
The war raged-
Infatuated and insane.
The cause was our 'Guardian'
And the conquest began.
The consequences were most feared,
Time seemed too leaden.
The priests, must have conspired
And we were the ones, who bled.
My dearest friend,
Would you keep my apology?
I had forgotten what you said
And I slaughtered the several.
When you came to me,
I held a blooded sword.
The streets were burning.
You were there, lost for words.
You held your tears,
The face had faith restrained;
Yet, my sword was then a dear:
I saw none, but red when it rained.
The once conflated
Had finally separated.
What had started
Finally at the end had ended.
We were brothers.
We were best of friends.
As you said:
"We have a guardian,
Alike, all the same."
