The last laugh...

The martyrs have weaken their stance, 

Subconsciously intimidated by the days of only wounds ahead,

Only moments to go until the march to glory,

The provinces of gold had intoxicated  them to the point of the sleep of reclusion...

The breeds of higher order have now not a reason to opine,

They begin their day with the solace of futility,

Commence to a voice of bigotry,

Until a different kind of transition...

For letters written in blood,

Have been defeated by the words inscribed in bonds,

Seldom acquainted with the world of gossip,

Placidly waiting in the numerous post offices of decay...

The time had begun for the fancy air of romance,

I will gift you a kiss if you please,

Embodied with the spirit of youth and glamour,

Made to suit carnal whims and mundane woes...

I shall wait for the end of your crude fantasy,

Which shall be made to sleep upon my arrival,

Awakened when I am away,

Which shall continue to torment you as you twitch and turn in your grave,

But not for too long...

Let me feed you copper candy,

So very fierce and inedible,

Let me occupy your senses with the scent of my love,

Superficial enough to slip away...

No impact has been as great,

As great as my non- existent significant other,

Who took me back to the rustic air of childhood,

As I grew many steps away from naivety...

Very few roots of passion have traced back,

The rest have faded away with the night,

Trampled on with time,

Burdened by mortality,

Just to suit the flow to the last laugh...