Warmonger.
By Phalanx
All of this means nothing
Without a willing participant.
It means a slow death.
A travel, backwards, through sin.
These fires of hell...
I will burn beyond the fire
As the last light,
If I have to.
I prayed to make this my war.
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Copyright 2015 Phalanx
Published on Thursday, July 30, 2015.
Filed under:
"Poetry"