Yeah ammmm,this isn't the typeof stff i nomrmally write....i'm a lover and i don't nkow i guess i just had alot to get out of me when i wrote this....its not that violet thou....don't think

Striking to the core,
Of a dismantled carcass.
Hovering over his conquest,
Soaked in the sweat, blood and tears of another.
The Avenger regains his own.
The power of countless forefathers,
The knowledge of distant gods,
The presence of a new age fad,
That has grasped the masses,
Of a comatose generation.
The warrior throws the weapon from his hand.
He inhales the last breath,
Of the slain,
He rubs the salty sweat,
Into his battle wounds.
The lifeless know,
Only too much of his pain.
The pain that makes him live on.
A Conqueror.
What more could he be?
A Barbarian, A Tyrant, The Nazi,
Who shot his man dead,
Next to the willow tree.
He spits to defile his foe.
In closing of his revenge.
An unforeseen event,
He now lays to rest.