Red as fire, with consequences so dire
the blood shall flow inconsiderate of ire.
Hush the hush and dare to speak,
for the future of humankind, without the bloodshed, lies in bleak.
The warriors of pain shall not bow,
neither shall they cower, nor anything to anyone do they owe.
The beauty of ploughing the path to birth,
from pleasure to pain to getting buried in Earth,
is etched stellar by the quill of cosmic power
and the courage multiplies with minute and hour.
Why doubt thyself when the harshness comes?
Why shed tears when the sadness hums?
The world isn’t fair
yet thou needn’t fear
as the battlefield paves the path to a beautiful existence.
Swords, spears, clubs,
maces, axes, and knives
tear open the hive of life,
yet what shall be damaged must be mended
and thy shall thrive like a combatant with pride.
March, march and march again,
shove off the seeds of doubt and shame,
for the sake of thyself
and those thou inspire.
Thy courage, beauty and mind,
thy love, lust and a heart so kind,
must be adorned with fearless composure
to withstand a battle, not your own and so unkind.
Raise thy head high,
wearing the trickling blood on your thigh.
Let each perished drop feed thy soul,
renew thy body, seeth thy spirit like coal,
augment thy identity and embrace love for self.
The crimson castle and the throne
are ready to make thy a Queen.