Mon Sep 06, 2010 12:57 am
4th poem. Don't copy please.
The slaughter of people, rich or poor,
Has taken part, in times of war.
The battle rages on, as it carries,
The true god of war, the god named Ares.
His muscles shown, his glasses on,
He uses many, like his pawn.
He can slaughter with the flick of his hand,
He can raid villages like nobody can.
He tortures his victims, he is the spoils of war,
Everytime he sees bloodshed, he only cries for more.
When the war is over, the damage is done,
Ares smiles like he's had a lot of fun.
Has taken part, in times of war.
The battle rages on, as it carries,
The true god of war, the god named Ares.
His muscles shown, his glasses on,
He uses many, like his pawn.
He can slaughter with the flick of his hand,
He can raid villages like nobody can.
He tortures his victims, he is the spoils of war,
Everytime he sees bloodshed, he only cries for more.
When the war is over, the damage is done,
Ares smiles like he's had a lot of fun.
You know you like OUTLANDERS. Love is like a flower, after a while, it dies.
