At least for now they could be happy.
Outside their small shelter of stone and steal,
A war raged.
But;
Wrapped in each others shaking arms
They were safe and warm.
The King shivered
Cold and bloody
Chained in his forest green uniform.
Blood that was not his matted his golden crown.
Tears cleaned the gore off his boyish features,
Acid eyes dull and bruised.
The Patriot stared at the wall oppisite;
A boy sat there,
He would never move again.
He could not move,
He could not breathe,
He could not think.
Eyes once like the sky now blue as Deaths skin.
All he did was crush his closest friend in his warm embrace.
Praying to a god that he was sure was no longer there;
Please, please make it stop. Please please please.
And one day;
It will stop.
There will be no need to wear green;
And no more need for tombs of stone and steal.