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by Amanda R
Think back to the battles of troy
The branding of the Vikings
And old English wars
Where people standstill in a fervent dream
Crushed by the abhorrence, the lies, and greed
There stands a victor
Rember the tales of the old Gangus Kahn
The addor of Narcissus, the beauty & pain
The relish of Midus and the gold that stained
There lays a victor
Place to place the battles won
Veni Vidi Vici conquered and gone
Spirited values on top of the world
Hubris misguide, ego reanimated
Reborn another victor
Chanting and cries, Crowns of gold
Bloodstained diamonds and tales spoken by ghosts
The mist carries through the heartache is reach
The victor still remains asleep,
Born from a battle, born from a cry
Contests and wishes a bloodied sky
Impassioned insincerity overcomes all
The victor still sleep standing tall
Placed in a coffin never buried or laid
The victor still sleeps
The winner awakes
For all battles won, the gold & the blood
Cries of terror, shouts of joy
The ones that lost awaken once more
While the victor lays trapped behind lore
Ceasar befallen, Midus preserved
Lothrbrok dead & Gangus defeated
Won with prase left barren by love
Enlightened by crowds darkened through the days
Stars burning in the sky
Mirth searing in the air spreading ashes through crowds
Crowds who lost gather beneath the tales
For a Victor, luck is often left exhausted
Love ceasing, capsuled in gore & enriched in stone
There laid the victors imprisoned in time
Remembered only by strangers and tales of merciless epics
Contrasted by the crowds who praised and cried
The loser often lives, yet the victor frozen in glory
Left without love or lust, desire or dreams
Only a fantasy that will beguile & disconnect
A victor may not be the winner in truth
For there they sleep in the bed they made
Never woken out of fear Left without soul or body,
Only ego remains, Bones hanged, tall and high, no peace or rest
The victor only in pen, hardly a winner, a myth of conquest, a tale of riches misplaced
Title benighted, beset by time, declaimed & defiled
Confined to times eyot, no harbor to call back home
No lee or lustihead, marred by nightshade, blinded by the sun
Redress, a winner is never the victor
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