Observer of the Slain

A battlefield of wishes, scattered and dead,
Comes the witness, unknowing what for they bled.
The crows pour in, a dreaded feast to behold,
Two heroic armies lost, once proudly bold.

The clouds then break, revealing truth clear as day,
Of lords too prideful to keep weakness at bay.
He leaves all the wiser to what has been wrought,
“Decisions do last, though emotions do not.”

© Sayer Teller

 

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