Monday, January 30, 2012

That Magical Word of War





This land is torn between the foes of love,
Forsaken dreams and residue that teems
With secrets formed by desecrating doves
Of worlds we failed to save without redeem.

In blood the victors write about the past,
The moments glazed with fine exaggeration;
Dividing odds, divining fate with cast.
To build a better patriot of nation.

These hollow hills, now staked will burn cherished.
The freedoms ring from sea mist to the ear.
Repentance knows no tongue for those who've perished
Protecting truths denied to wattle fear.

Neoterisms lay upon our dirts
While lies are printed boldly on our shirts.

No comments:

Post a Comment