Untitled 2

The modern day Roman
In his chrome-gilt chariot
Drawn by hundreds of horses
Thunders into battle.

Today he is paid his salary
The salt of the new age.
He wields his scrawling sword
Leaving a trail of red ink.

Not for the glory of emperor
Country, creed, or god.
But for himself.
Mars rises in the sky as night nears.

His children are asleep in their beds
Just the same
As those of a far off city
In a long ago time.

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