Fallen Cry

We've been missing for many years

through a battle we fought with arrows and spears.

But all came to naught resulting in tears

We remember the days we started with purity that could pierce,

And a sense of holiness that was so fierce.

On top of the highest mountain we looked down on those that fell in battle

Puzzled always by the determining factors.

We heard rumors in our camp amongst the soldiers,

That they fell because they were unfit to wield His majesty's sword,

so they were left to the mimicry of Ahab's assassination.

 

 

The pain that reminded us of where we were captured from almost became a cliché.

And our conscience was threatened to side with their philosophy.

From time to time we were fed by the enemy's men under specific orders of hospitality;

Lust for breakfast

Greed with selfishness for lunch

And Pride for supper.

At first we choked on it but eventually we grew used to it.

We couldn't feel any pain but anytime it felt like it,

and the subtle beacon of our hearts sent off distress signals,

Our usual delicacy was served to us making us think that was our remedy.

Even though we seemed attrite about everything,

our souls were in deepening despair and bitterness

towards ourselves and brothers who didn't even try to help us.

They promise prayers of salvation with their fingers crossed behind them.

Some use us as a testament to their propaganda to rally troops into brigades.

As the enemy gives us a sweet death, my brothers sent postcards 

wishing us a happy slanders and accusations day.

Even though we knew we will die anyway standing for any of the kingdom,

Our juxtaposition through our weak minds as soldiers to superiors 

from our origin took from us much more than we could offer.

Because we projected the perfection of our creed through them and vice versa.

And with many uncertainties and offers with evidence of pleasure from our enemy, 

death scared us no more.

We embraced our fallen state.

Hoping that one day someone will love us back into hope.