The Slaughter Pen

Why would man march from heaven into hell,

But to bear for love on banners of light,

Righteousness enshrined in ruddy valor,

They test tales of courage by the pallor of night.



How can the ranks stand by so resolute,

In face of fleeting fire and velvet smoke,

Men not individuals but gathered one,

Fears banished as those undone invoke.



The mortal man fears a closing curtain,

And his heated heart when unbridled bolts,

At whispers of whistling fate on the air,

That desperate despair that sense revolts.



On each noble brow is a crown of thorns,

Bound tight by a heavy honor unspoken,

Every eye traces the battle to each phase,

Ready to meet death with a gaze unbroken.