Thursday, August 6, 2015

Of the Fair Ankles

A fight between kings
That brings down a nation.
Like the eagle of wings,
Call the war formation,
Seek the phalanx of men,
Cry for all red and then

A battle to the skies,
To the depths of the earth,
Wherever the bird flies,
It depends on their birth
Of fury and sorrow,
Of honor that won't grow.

Like scent of a lover,
The war isn't over
Over the red river.

It tastes bitter, ain't it?
Then how far shall we go
'Til enemies we meet?
Are these just by ego,
Or are we just humans
On will of a woman?
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