GARGOYLEMAN @GARGOYLEMAN
Joined 6 months ago
GMR
The blood of men filled the lands
for they stood and bleed
for honor and respect.
They held the flags;
they died in the grass
so few could shed a tear at last.
A Flag of Blood, I thought the poem was cool. Sue me.
The fields of green soon turn to yellowish straw
the crow makes its final caw,
unbothered in the sprawl of tragic flaws,
while the trumpets of angels soon fill the air
for the bleeding ears of bloated men to bear.