Tragedy’s Stain

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

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