Armando Pribadi

Vanquished Treaty

More traces of bloods leaving the battleground,
though, the rage of powers quelling over the land,
blessing those who have the will to kill each,
thirsts of power seems to be an inevitably reach,
like a voyage to a grandeur skies, skies where hopes scorched.

Thousand arms rise to the calls,
off to a hand of injustice bells,
being puppets of heedless conqueror,
for sakes and loves they’d never favored,
for a dream of vanquished treaty.

Sons of humans lying soulless beneath barren rainbow,
a rainbow they wanted to see above the fog of wars, ...