Cordial banter fleeing at the sight of a smoking gun,
dastardly frankness sends joviality on the run.
storming tidal waves charging the heart of magic,
swerving candor courting death, and razing the world brick by brick.
Madness unriveting smiles, and constructing skeletons in their place,
fallen are the hearts or gladness, smoldered are the minds of grace.
Stratospheres of catastrophe line the futures wake,
but ne'er shalt hope be gone, for ne'er shall hope forsake.
Cruelty smelted together with coarse foreshadow conquers the prestiged rattle,
forced are the citizens to grumble off to battle.
War is fought but to settle human nerves,
to mask human grievances, and indulge violence's hor'duerves.
Splattered is the human blood, the structure crumpled down,
but forever and in all places can a new thing to build be found
Nurtured is deathly ringing, and calamitous is its cry,
But fighting the fight is the only way for the fight to die.
Burned are the waters which can put out the fire and clashed are the forgotten foes,
But the stench of woeful conflict is itself the only woe.
The faults can’t be ignored nor can damage be undone,
But the blade can be set down, untouched can be the gun.
The frugal scent of wrongful blood sports across the chalice,
But the world thrives in woes long past, and in the wake of forgotten malice.
Slandered is the exit sign and vandalized is the escape,
But sympathetic cries for freedom still reverberate.
Stratospheres of catastrophe line the future’s wake,
But ne’er shall hope be gone, for ne’er shall hope forsake.