Glory Poem by Tsunami HiroshiSu

Glorified kings of day old battles
Who fought with wooden swords on bloodsoaked fields
Who squandered our last shred of hope in tattered banners and GREAT leaders
We sing a broken song and bury our lovers in leaves that rot in our hands
We close our eyes and let our tears stream as though we are raining
Whose words fill the ocean of tears?
Whose syllables drip like the faucet?
My tears eat up the silence and steady sobs suffuse the night
Maybe wait one more moment
Maybe she'll stop and quiet will keep our night dark
There are whispers in the night
But no one comforts me
My king is dead
Bitter
I am bitter and dying too
I am screaming and shrinking
I am shrivling
My king is dead
And for his soul I pray
For me I pray
My sanity my sanctity
Did you have to pick up your sword and ride out in search of glory?
Glory is empty and meaningless
To a dead man