Swords of Brothers

Swords clash and ignite the fire within Fighters draw and strike again. Draw! Strike! Draw again! Strike him until he’s subdued! Broken, bloody, torn and bruised. Strike again, angry words this time fall Forget the brotherhood and ties, uniting them all. Victory is within his grasp he can hear his enemy’s final gasp. Menacingly he looks over the wounded, now walking dead Grinning evilly, he picks up his sword to swing it over his head. Victory is imminent; He rushes on as he prepares to draw and strike the fatal blow. Suddenly he notices the hilt with an ethereal glow. “free people are brothers” is the gilded message of the now silent sword. Anguish, grief and remorse are now his just reward. An enemy he was not, but a friend, Struck down, fatal blow, a grisly end. Bonded they were in a battle long ago,when they fought for the same cause side by side to be enslaved no more, was their battle cry, now by his own sword, his brother has died. Hollow victory, blood stained hilt; Now filled with sadness, pain and guilt. A silenced mouth still with stories untold. Forgotten brotherhood, a kinship now extinguished and grown cold.