Perhaps a better future #18

Dressed in a king’s attire,

under the mask of lies,

convincing as a con man,

the country slowly dies.


Blood as coffee stains,

wounds are gaping holes,

the Royal eyes are closed,

as life, the Angels stole.


Adrenalin, a marathon runner,

pumping through their veins,

as they drop their arms in surrender,

crimson in showers of rain.


Running for their life,

fleeing their own land,

perhaps a better future,

their oaths a strong band.

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