The Blade

The blade sings
The blood splatters
Another foe falls
But it doesn't matter
Another death another stain
He cleans his blade again
But the sanguine stays
and marks the blade
The mark of cain
branded in his eyes again
The windows to his soul
Twisted and tortured
But all he knows is death
He will fight till his last breath
And men will fall, warriors will rise
Until the world crumbles
Until the last blade is broken
We are slaves to voilence.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Logged on, thought of the first four lines and wrote the poem in the last 5 minutes

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