And the swords roar upon impact,
the likes of which have the earth tremble.
Whilst the shields yearn for contact,
from the villagers who delve into their lives, humbled.
I say: stop this raging storm of a war,
which continues to shatter the hope of all.
And make this battle into a treaty of peace,
which will crumble the enemy of the wall.
I say: pandemonium is not a game,
for which people should play with lives.
As underneath the desire for the fame,
the good men must continue to rise.
Because upon the cluster of decaying flesh,
there is no more the assurance of a victory.
And upon the threshold of this mess,
we will tumble into the abyss of history.
YOU ARE READING
Poesy of Eloquence
Poetry❝ this tragedy is soaked with tears that dry the ink in my hands. ❞ ━ the poesy I've yearned to release ever since I taught myself to pick up the pen and write. ❝ for if the painting of my words be the garden upon the gate of heaven, glimpse them...
