|06-03-2013, 10:13 PM||#1|
Join Date: Sep 2006
Many many curtains the same
Flapping as the banner-men on the gust hills I gaze
But each with different patterns presenting a culture of its own
As a warlord I've always known
to be amidst this scene.
Replaying my role, thoroughly
would mean all the difference and the same...
As I walked back and forth on my red banner, thus I...
would always return back, to replay...
Watching as the butterflies would swirl
whilst perfecting the effects.
"Measure a paragon would
an omens faith stuck ill in me.
Sow the winds, reap the storm"
Nor the devil's usurper before
I realized this position, I
Burst its flappers and made a gust
Wish, for the thinkers in my head
to brew a distill and forget
that I was even here and then...
The sun sets
I await a solemn vow, now
as I wake upon a hill with
soothing wind and a banner in my hand.
No patterns but a white flag
and a slight sense of peace again
I catch a flying letter, saying;
"There is no war, but you"
Hues of Us
We're catching ships in the Rye
Last edited by Eccer : 08-20-2014 at 07:46 PM.