When Men Vanquish Men

Men and men are torn apart like withered roses cut from its gut, Twain against each other to destroy and defend for yesterday's memory and tommorrow's dream, Sanguine fluids on sodden hands suits the vehemence of their miasmatic souls, Evil never ceasing to rend asunder until rare peace prevails perpetually, Only then is the white flag raised high... The ungarroted hearts of their unslayed passion write to fill blank pages, The illusion of unspoken reflections tied with a yearning voice of freedom, Unfolds a dream the tides of good will bring for the world beyond the laws of man, While women bequest everlasting oaths and ode to the indestructible love of their children, Only then we are at peace just as grass fields flow with the wind... The question of existence becomes certain on the facade of subterfuge and revenues of the hopeless, Contumacious kings must configure and confide the paths of their people to protect and preserve, Upon our eyes all exempt from the darkness of night, the day decides laud shall lead us on, The night comes to give us rest and time to appreciate of what is now and what has been, Only then to wake, rise, and see the morning sigh is the dream which has come true...