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by Rishi Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Philosophy · #2324558
Older work written as a fantasy piece, but the real world situation isn't much different.
Grey skies, hollow eyes;
there is nowhere to be.
Rain pours, on a pile of corpses;
nothing left to see.

Chaos roams, no way home;
only fields & rives of blood.
Nothing gained, nothing earned except;
ashes and dust and mud.

Men are meek, their future bleak;
with nowhere to hide.
No choices, options or escape;
the laws of darkness one must abide.

In a palace, faraway from this bloody mess;
negotiated the kings.
Unaware, unaffected of the consequences;
the war always brings.

They roamed, feasted, they danced & they pranced;
they debated to and fro.
All the while the cost of war;
continued to grow.

In the end, a deal was struck;
a trade was made.
That was when everyone realized;
what they had paid.

A mother, waited anxiously for her son;
a lover yearned eternally for his amour.
Children longed for the return of their heroes;
while fate laughed at the poor.

In the end, it is only a vicious cycle;
with winners no one cared for.
The only thing that remains the same;
is the aftermath of war.
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