The Other Poem by Unic Cjonr

In the front of the knife.

Held in the hands of Dusk.

ThE other, carries the axe of darkness.

War is art and art is at hand.

The portrait declared, Day hates the Knighted Night.

By the blade of midnight.

Blood has to pour.

To relieve the drought thirty land.

Waves of vengeance breaks fresh on my
shore.

I am afraid of being peculiar.

But the violence will not be silenced.

The army of stars have been deleted.

No sparkle to shine as life is depleted.

When light and darkness finally clash.

The time will run into power play.

But one has to die.

So why?

The big delay.