Minerva

a poem by Ash sarge, USA

Minerva,
You've been silent too long,
You son Rome,
Is dying.
Minerva,
This cracking image,
Is but a vessal,
Yet, I know you still see,
Through those hollow eyes,
Do you see your sisters,
Even Venus,
Is hammered in half,
Laying face to the ground...
Minerva,
Your son, us,
Your children,
Proud Romans, but few,
Leave this blood wine to you,
Our tears have given it water.
Minerva, Mother,
Toss away the scrolls,
Let your arm instead,
Throw the spears...
Shelter us,
With your sheild,
Rome wasn't born in a day....
Let the death of your son,
Wait.

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