Poem, Short story, Weekend

Some other.

A stand must be made, to face the corrupt

The right and the wrong, the us and the them

When neither will bend, so will violence erupt.

From the ashes, the old or the new will extend

To make or to break, from within and without

The weak and the agents of old to offend.

By works and deeds, of many a bloodied hand

In the earth of our borders, nourished by vengeance and soul

Within lay the bodies native to our land.

They come as they please, and bring own stock

And all of the world which they would control

The pride of all others, to shame they would lock.

For the folk, they must rise from the first to the last

Their hands must be severed, and so too their heads

And so that horrid folk to the flame they must cast.

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