To forgive is human; to march, divine

  • Posted wherever ( was, in open support.

    A syncopated march,
    Sounding steady rhythm,
    The noise causes some to flee,
    In brace of forceful schism.

    They cut them down in heavy swathes,
    Wielding dark and bloody blades,
    In the streets and in the shade,
    Their wants, and dreams, and blood, has stayed.

    With boots that sound like rolling thunder,
    They split the wheat from chaff,
    With sound; cold as frozen tundra,
    They say you heard them laugh.

    And even with their triumph,
    At such a heavy cost,
    Those in Green and Black should note,
    What is won can still be lost.

    ~Penny Dreadful.