There stood a doubt until a bout
Fulfilled bad-blood’s rite between them
What bears out win more than knock-out
Is the cut-throat creed of men’s mayhem!
There ain’t more brutal truth than blood
Ask martyrs baptized by its smear
Their wounded pride is dragged thru mud
Who dare to defy the faith of fear!
Is it the bull backstabbed by a spear
Who lost the conquest in pride’s quest
Or the vanity of the cavalier
Who found redemption in blood-fest!
She is the child of the satanic seed
Who suckles the sin and grief galore
To feed her need every eon must bleed
When Glory Wants Gore!
© 2023 Vikas Chandra