Martyr

Ares whispers in my ear of the war which will end the earth—of how when loved ones don’t home and dreams of hope are vanquished—thousands of bodies shall litter the ground their last breath caught within their throats—he whispers to you how the blood of man will water the earth and grow the grapes of wrath—he’ll get drunk off the sweet suffering of man—a sacrifice he whispers to me of flesh and blood is needed—he smiles and I kiss the edges—oh how beautiful to be composed of flesh and blood I sing—to walk hand in hand to the end of man what a glorious ending for me