Wars

I bid thee welcome to the atrium
The great room within the house of war
The structure that, within it, holds such hidden
Yet titanic battles, raging red
As could be seen in the history of men
With brass shells and cordite, staining the fabric of the air
Howling wounded me, roaring blasphemies at my own sky
 
And there shall be no quarter
 
And there shall be no capitulation
 
For I have withdrawn into the house of war
 
To feel while I still can.