There is savagery
in their bloodshot eyes.
Dilated to see it all,
In those eyes you search for fear.
They go around each other
One waiting for the other.
Waiting to kill,
It’s a fight to finish.
As the volcano erupts,
You see blood on their hands.
Is it the other man’s blood?
Or, his own? You’ll never know.
This urge to succeed
The lust for power
The power that grabs you
Like quick sand.
It’s a search of glory
The glory that’s brought by gory.
This is a battlefield
We mindlessly walk through.
We prepare
To give everything
Including our last breath
For that gloomy Nothing.
Sitting around in the arena
With great delight
We watch, as the Romans did.
We haven’t changed much.
The cry of the dying man
Suppressed by the howl of the survivor.
Sounds stained by blood.
This is our history.
He now waits to take another
And so it goes on
Until everyone is taken,
And till the last one falls.
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