Lest lost battles, give way, to a war
And more gore, spill o’er, sin’s dance floor
Let’s, stray thru, manhood’s metaphor
With a bull, and a, brutal matador!
These fests, of faith, and, fiestas of fear
We live thru, and die, every day
Harder than cross, is a sin, to bear
Baptized in blood, each, castaway!
Once friend, now foe, would soon, come to know
Vain martyrs, don’t live, very long
His funeral, awaits, our tomorrow
Russian Roulette, for whom, went wrong!
Whilst the bull, lay dead, o’er, our spent hate
Let’s shroud, his soul, in a hymn, holy
Vengeance, Penance, done, let’s celebrate
Leave, The Gun, Take, The Cannoli!
© 2021 Vikas Chandra