Distorted words, and

The common misconception

Of glamorous fiends,

Help to destroy the sanity

Of hopelessly subtle, old kings.

-

Dastardly provoked

To implore, or deceive, the

Faint of heart—cowards—

To commit themselves to war;

To attempt courage for once.

-

Yet, not one of them

Is capable of such strength.

In today’s battle,

One man here, is simply just

Another broken, dead boy.

-

Scream “Hallelujah!”

They do, but it comes as a

Whisper. They whisper,

Because they are afraid of

Their own voices; the noise scares them.

-

Circumstance may have

That those faint of heart—cowards—

Cannot see their chance;

This inexhaustible resource.

They know not their own power.

-

Brother: Please humor

The condemned souls in this town,

For they are no more

A concern for the Killers,

And Invaders moving through here.

-

The rippling muscles

Of defeat swarm this dead town,

And those who stood by

Were consumed by the vultures,

And the wolves who haunt the woods.

-

Those who could not stand

And confront the oppressors,

Because their voice was

Inaudible and weak, were

Burned at the stake, like Bruno.

-

               Yet, these plebes, could not look Him in the eyes because their guilt weighed their chins down.

-

Wickedly the cruel,

Conquering enemy will

Capture the souls of

The less fortunate who hide

In their own puny shadows.

-

Yet, even when the

Strong make their stand, and fight

Those wicked demons,

Their victory is in vain,

Because the cities still burn.