Grendel Had A Gl'1tch: #2 - The Canvas of Conflict

In fields of war, the wound lays wide Civilization's sorrows deep inside Lost within its vast expanse: Life and progress, a fleeting glance

A dance of death, of time, of lore, A question - what is all this for? Can any good from such despair, Arise and grow, can life repair?

The din of war, the cries that play, The soul's torment, night into day The ones you knew, now changed - scarred, Turned to beasts, their psyche marred

In such a realm, one learns to seal, Humanity's touch, to cease to feel To forget home, dreams, love's sweet song, In the now, the only goal: to move along

For any lapse, a moment's sway, Might strip it all, whisk life away To live in this, to even find joy, Turns one monstrous, war's employed toy

Within this Hell, one's spirit seeks, Purpose and beauty, as darkness speaks To become a machine, in soul and mind, Determined, unwavering, leaving self behind

Death - the artist, in this abyss, Crafts masterpieces with a twist For it's glorified, in thought and dreams, A dance with darkness, a macabre theme

Embrace the void, the shades, the night, Let it fuel the passion, the will, the fight Death paints with strokes both bold and vast, On the canvas of the mind, a spell is cast