A Shallow Mess
Ravens wander empty skies
Like cold missionaries
Ravenously scouring the land
For blind fear and lost souls.
The empty sounds of a quiet day
From lands bereft of hope;
A day for weary eyes to close
And old soldiers to go back home.
Broken bones feed sorrow and pest;
For the glory of kings,
For the sake of every foolish pride
And every deeply bloody, shallow mess.