The grass is green
splashing across it is some spleen
To a ravens’ feast
Filling the hearts of mighty beasts
Two giant armies fighting in vain
Their fires smoldering despite heavy rain
Bent on winning over the other
mighty falcons fighting to their last feather
Peace wasn’t an option visible
even though it was quite feasible

To use every sinew of their strength
On destruction they were hell bent.
To push each other, into a deep gorge
Instead of a lasting friendship they could forge
Now all this cause for battle
That they could easily settle
The reason for that amigo
Was something called an EGO

Tags: Ego, Poetry

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