They have no idea,
they don’t speak of death.
They only speak of life,
of life after death.
I’m lonely now,
every one around me has been knocked off the edge.
Yellow, blue and red eyes watch from above
Menacingly they taunt me to do what should not be done.
Can War be a person too?
Can it be killed, can it be forgotten?
Like me, one among many, but no more.
Burning heat swells the Earth,
a flaming carriage suddenly rips the Earth in half.
The mangled body of Ares,
lays between the arms of Nike, Victory.
He looks at me, with eyes made of steel,
like the blades of Kings,
and then to the God of War,
with eyes the color of crimson and the blackest night.
He calls over to both sides of the line.