The Triumph of None
Rage wearied prints soil the surface
Each. Angry. Step. Pressed a bit too deep
Struggle, strife, the gears of war
Straining against the mockery of hope
A faceless enemy consumes the fold
Amid the chaos, bitter tears fall
Homage to what was, or could never be
Purity lost among the carnage
Shambling soldiers, broken by defeat
The withered hope of a forlorn love
Folded in the corner, gathering dust
The triumph of none, rings the day
Click to view