A Silent Battle

A Silent Battle

Missiles of venom,

cut through the air

Shadows from the dark creep,

feeding on your despair

Few are needed,

for the knives to be at my throat

However, many are strung together,

my lovely noose

For you to hang around my neck

and G

L

O

A

T

A war beyond the graves,

behind the scenes,

More than the eyes can discern

More for the convoluted mind

To operate, as if a machine

Waged with sticks and stones

Going farther than a throne

Who shall sit on a chair paraded in gold

While made with the enemy’s broken bones

Who shall wear the crown made of pearls

Slyly masking the scent of blood

Who shall covet all they cannot have

Whilst waging a war made only to win

Who will end up the victor,

Of a war beyond violence,

for the so-called brave?

(or just brazen)

Do not be fooled by the path

that shines bright,

For darkness will always follow

that which is light