The conqueror will hold this place
Born of darkness
And the death of the countless
Becoming our god
Holding nothing
But hope
That we will not fair
The same as those unfortunates
The victor is the survivor
Of this inevitable march
That time mercilessly marks
To the chagrin of the sane
In the greatest of endeavors
The most in number is found
Lost in the crowd despite the significance
Just another cadaver in another conflict
The greatest measures
Of human ingenuity
Are found in war
Where naught but death and glory is found
Not one a winner
In a game that ends every player
Not a tragedy is ignored
By those that fail to look away
Paradox 