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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · War · #1561654
The tales and accounts of a ships path to war
Strong are these dead winds,
knelling bells.
Lost in a frozen, ghost, memory.


Cursed by night,
I’ve lost all sight,
Floating in an endless sea.


We sail toward a dead moon
Haunting us above in the sky.
My soul has never experienced beauty
It relies on eyes,
I’ve never felt beauty before,
The wind has muffled my heart’s cry
Lent it foolishly across the sea.


We sail in to forever,
Or until we meet another,
In our travel lies
The battle lines
Battle lines of war,


It seems our meeting will be in the sea,
And there falls our bodies to soon be.
Feeling the breath of an oceans vengeance,
Taking us toward our final reward
Our honor to die by an order,
Fighting in the Noblest of wars.


And when my final song is sung,
Close the casket, tell my son,
His father fought for a king’s wish,
And the people still dream.


Another strong wind builds in the east,
A ship it pulls aboard a feast
To celebrate a brand new war
And with it brings a brand new whore.


They hear the rings of bells at night,
Smell of gun-powder, all loss of sight
I look down on them in distaste,
Another fool will find his place,
His place within the sea.          
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