The roses still flutter in the breeze.
Creating movement between the dead.
The battle is over.

These roses know nothing of the fighting disease
that plagues the kings with crowns on their heads.
The roses still flutter in the breeze.

Roses are crushed by surviving knights’ failing knees.
As they beg to never again be a part of the bloodshed.
The battle is over.

One rose struggles to move with the breeze.
Its petals dance beneath a blood glazed axe head.
The rose still flutters in the breeze.

The serfs will be led to believe
the roses were destroyed to save their farmstead.
The battle is over.

The bloating bodies in the field of roses please
the crowned ones, for they have not suffered with the dead.
The roses still flutter in the breeze.
The battle is over.