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Image for the poem - - - PORTRAIT : KING OF KILLERS - - -

- - - PORTRAIT : KING OF KILLERS - - -


We charge across the frozen ground
Cannons thunder like the wrath of gods
We are deaf to the dying sounds
Stumbling forward through pools of blood

A musket ball tears through my chest
The canister rips apart my skin
But I rise, there can be no rest
Not for me, I advance to kill again

I have watched through the ages
As others celebrate my wars
My names have spread through the pages
As I set fire to your world

I recall many years ago
Barbarian hordes were on all sides
The rancid smell of death and steel
And the demon at the back of my mind

I've fought for the honor of names
But mostly I have killed for your love
Today, I still visit your grave
After the slaughter of the droves

Speak my name through the ages
As others celebrate my wars
My portrait hangs through the ages
In their museums across the world

Can't you see that all I've done
The blood I spilt was done for you?
Paint the walls in scarlet shades
To give you tribute, tried and true
What saving grace has left me
When your shade fades in morning light
Left alone with my portrait
It torments me so, in my plight

Immortality
Can be so sweet
The untold years
Of joy laid before you
But without you here
It has become
A goddamn curse

I look back on these blood stained hands
And all I see is your stricken face
Just when did I become the damned
A gore drenched monster fallen far from grace

I have watched through the ages
As others celebrate my wars
My names have spread through the pages
As I set fire to your world

And now I wish to follow you
This King of Killers wishes for death
I long for a sky filled with blues
And one more tasting of your breath

Speak my name through the ages
As others celebrate my wars
My portrait hangs through the ages
In their museums across the world

Can't you see that all I've done
The blood I spilt was done for you?
Paint the walls in scarlet shades
To give you tribute, tried and true
What saving grace has left me
When your shade fades in morning light
Left alone with my portrait
It torments me so, in my plight

Cruel be the pages
That carry on my name
Cruel be the ages
On this throne of the slain

(c) 2015 Frank Green






Written by HadesRising
Published
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