Tuesday, July 18, 2017

The Colosseum's Sands are Red

My body waits the damage
I will certainly suffer
From my labor
A worker in blood
And slaughter
If I win someone dies
If I lose I do so
Laying thereafter
Upon an altar
Memories of me will be
Without joy or hope
For my arms are enslaved
And I can never win
My body serves
By the emperor's whip
And whim
When I die
I will awake
Where the fields grow tall
And the sun is warm
Every path I take
Will lead to home
For Elysium
Waits for those
Who die
As heroes