The Forgotten Archive - 2. Silence is Better

The silence we hold dear,

Echoes a march for the coming year.

Mere men with plans, rise to the new order.

As hands of sauntered masses border the fine line of life and death.

The men of red, pierce through the line.

Dread fills us as we panic.

Manic calls to action raise militias.

To blaze the perspective darkness.

The men of blue hold the wishes of desperation.

The damnation of past sins drive their future.

In this light, the twins both red and blue,

Slew the olive tree and seek anew.

The fist of revolution makes its battle cry.

Glistening blood spills, and many die.

The dilution of goodwill hits it’s apex.

As the flood of violence drowns out the complexity of peace.

Corpses line the streets.

Sheets fall over the lifeless men.

A fortress of fear rises.

The size is, truly, too large to bare.

The bleakness of dread blankets still.

Behind the fortress walls,

Obliqueness holds true.

The grind of war had just begun.

Near the end we pray,

To keep the violence at bay.

To hold true to the peace we’ve built.

To cease the twins fighting, to lay the foundation of hope.

Break the chain of sin,

For the line draws evermore thin.

Between the colored twins.

A screen of peace stands poor, and feign.