‘Crown of thorns’

Underneath thy mossy heather.. prickly spiculum shield thy story.. amidst yon blood-curdling battle whenst heroic men fell affray from glory.. 

Sharpened swords with shield in hands they ran amok, lambs to thy slaughter.. drenched whilst seeped in bloody carnage.. come hell or high water..

Blood red poppies strewn yon clover above thy shrine of fracas and war.. butchered bones and annihilation..cries the sighs of ye abhor..silenced, stillness.. cloak and dagger harbours lamented wails and mourns..Mother natures wilderness of wonder clandestines thou crown of thorns