War Shall Come and With It Pestilence
The raptors, the vultures, the scavengers,
They circle the sky in search of meat.
The carcasses of the fatalities of plague
Lay outstretched on the hills of Attica.
Those that chose not to abstain
Have joined the crowd of corpses.
They do not bury the dead, instead,
They let them rot ‘neath the summer sun.
The barbarians, the heathens, the invaders,
They burn the land and fell the trees.
There is safety behind the walls.
There is a great strategic advantage
In forcing a stalemate. However beleaguered
And stagnant the people may become.
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