Hi there! Please enjoy my latest poem; I’m not necessarily sure what I mean by it, but if you find meaning in it then that’s great!
Of war marches to the sound
Of drums that he cannot escape, they come
As naturally to him as the heartbeat
That sends red fire flaming through his veins, and;
Though his ears bleed at the sound, he knows,
That this echoing pronouncement of fate,
O god of war! Of thundering drums!
Of rage and fire and death!
Can you feel, in your heart, The destruction that you bring?
The god of war is cursed;
The god of war sleeps not;
The god of war marches,
With his head held high by the strings of fate,
With his feet kept in line by the beat of the drums,
Always in time with the sounds of the heart
And the feel of the heat, and the sweat on his face
And the back of his neck,
And though his muscles ache
He cannot rest.
I do not pray to Aires;
Rather, I pray for
The god of war.