a sweet surrender

so it is war – the slings and arrows hurl
themselves haphazardly – the cacophone
of voices thrown about – the gates that were
once open now are barred in fear – a moan
of sieges – and two cities fight, alone
together in a treason none bestirred –
and stone for stone for reasons best unknown
destruction creeps – a moonlit curl
of smoke in passionate decline – of which
a broken love in times unfurled has swept
throughout the people, an early breach
of walls – and on one side a willing course
to fall – for another’s smile that tears be wept –
the knowing entry of a Trojan horse



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