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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Opinion · #1216453
Slowly raised its crazed head, Dripping from the mouth, blood
Slowly raised its crazed head
Dripping from the mouth, blood
Bloody in hand, its sword
From its heart, black hate
Angry soldering red eyes
Screamed its hateful contempt

For you and me, contempt
We who thought to shed its blood
Tried to pierce it with our swords
Fear of wrath burn our heads
Fires of hell consumed the eyes
Of the devil filled with hate

How did we earn such hate?
How did we earn such contempt?
Was it when we buried our swords?
It filled the land with blood
Raped the innocence with its eyes
Forced us to bow our heads

Held to the wall, with its spearhead
Roaming its angry eyes
Looking for our yellow blood
Looking for us to hate
Waiting with eager contempt
Waiting for us to raise our swords

But we won’t raise our swords
Instead we just close our eyes
Step around the dried blood
And our neighbor we hate
Look down at the Romans with contempt
We have lost their needed heads

God has turned his head
Could not bear what met his eye
Sadly had to sheath his sword
Turned away from the world of hate
Holds us in utter contempt
Watched the bath of blood

Gone are the days filled with blood
Gone are our mighty swords
And for that we will all die.
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