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Image Credits: Willow Manor

The soldier with his grit of lead
And armor made of pride
When faced with wars of pure hatred
He simply cannot hide

And marching on, he roars in vain
Cries not, despite the pain

The prince with all his swords and knives
Can’t ward away this harm
When dark angels reign over lives
And lure him with their charm

He lays himself before their eyes
Smile on his lips, he sighs

This fragrance that the princess wears
Can’t drown the putrid smell
Her sunken soul no longer dares
The Reaper’s evil spell

And yet she holds hope as her light
Against a long black night

Mighty canons, and perfumes sweet
These piles of wealth and fame
Betray their lords and bear defeat
When death plays her own game

And in the end, Earth comes to aid
Where all else seems to fade


**Submitted for Magpie Tales (by Willow Manor), and Monday Poetry Potluck at Jingle Poetry. Please do check out these sites for more creative treats… 100% fun and awe guaranteed! πŸ™‚ **

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