Revolution

Swords cry out,
urging blood to be shed.
A crimson shine
to be beheld.

Birds step down
from their skyward shrines.
Their families
to never be put at risk.

Fish shall rise
to the shores.
Soon to be released
from the ties that bind.

Death looms
over the shoulders of men.
For He knows
what is the price to pay.

Battalions gather
across the lands.
With vengeance on their sides,
they await the final call.

Decayed plants scream,
reminding us
of what we could
have had.

The crown falls
the tyrant dethroned.
A falling blade,
and tyranny tastes the dirt.