Battle Wounds

The blood on thou hands which marks my battles defeat
The tears in thine eyes to which thou love to feed
Thy hopes and dreams to which thou feasts
Thy have seem to fallen down on thine open flesh knees

Wounded, scarred, and lost with no doubt
The words thou spit seems to be loud
The prayers thy thought inside thy mind
Are crushed and lost it's unique frail design

Dear God please help thee free thy cell
To be from which not thy have seem to melt
Gore of blood spills from arms of silver
Defeat reigns over thy own weak quiver

Thy get up again and let the Gods hear:
"Pierce thine heart with a merciless spear
Or make it swift with pain of not
Thine shall take it and take it again while thy rot!"

Oh sweet sun thy shall not see again
Fallen down whilst thy if not sword then pen
For verbal markings have split thy ears
Sending thy trembling with forsaken fears

Minds of memories bittersweet tales
Thine own heart aches of such remorse trails
To which thy shall travel and walk with grief
So thy will lay down dead and be taken from thou thief

Forbid thee angels of heaven's cringing touch
Take thy away from such a regretful battle such
Sleep shall wake thy in the Gates of God's arms
So rest in peace while thine now have no harm