Azrael

There the angel Azrael was standing on the scene
after the flames of the two forces met
and caused the knell of many thousand men,
leaving all their corpses there obscene.

The King had drove his self into the hearts
of mortal men and women as if art,
and cast away the sense of hope for loss,
and prayed to evil gods.

That was the providence of all the wroth
which fought against his imposing visage,
and brought into his court a certain message.
“Be off or be met with all impasses.”

But King with all his pride and needless ira
had ignored all the warnings from the fortune tellers,
and kept with all his sinful, wrong desires,
and marched half of his armies on his people.

Then half the armies ran off with their families,
and set a camp outside the kingdom’s boundaries,
and waited for the fated day to march
against their Lord’s demarche

All the pride that burst forth when the horn
was blown, and all the force was to be known,
was swiftly suffocated like a match and blow,
when wrought against the thorn.

The men collapsed the valley into teeth.
Dirt had swallowed their all earthly prides,
and now it’s down the river where it rides,
and now the widows weep
while Azrael writes names.