Cursed The Cold Bloody Ground

Just another poem I had written thus far.  Enjoy!!!

  • Unbeknownst to him,
  • who had raised a sword,
  • just to see his brother fell,
  • upon the bloody ground.
  • A poor man he was,
  • dying a slow death,
  • watching a bloody mess,
  • soaking the messy ground.
  • Why oh why he felt,
  • a betrayal of a kin,
  • who had slain him well,
  • for he had kissed the ground.
  • Had his brother not known
  • a kin blood ran in his veins,
  • fueling the same goals and passions,
  • until he kissed the ground?
  • As the light got brighter,
  • blinding him evermore,
  • but time got slower,
  • evermore, he was still on the ground.
  • Aye, no longer he felt,
  • a betrayal of a kin,
  • only a cold struck him,
  • while he kissed the ground.
  • In and out he faded,
  • the cold nagged till only numbness overcame,
  • he felt a presence begged him,
  • to float away from a bloody ground.
  • Tiny breath of life,
  • kept a candle fizzled,
  • tiny memory flashed through,
  • cursed the cold bloody ground.
  • He wanted to yell,
  • so much so to must,
  • a question he had,
  • instead he kissed the bloody ground.
  • With not much time left,
  • he knew his time had come,
  • for him to leave his brother behind,
  • for him to float away from the bloody ground.
  • In a flash he saw,
  • all as one and one as all,
  • a painful, slow death it was,
  • as he floated away from the bloody ground.

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