The Art of War jeo wrote this at 10:17 am • Filed under Breakaway Neurons •

the fascist screams, still won’t accept defeat,
but her nation is gone, down to its feet.
her land was proud, her army held ground,
but sometimes in war, even the mightiest burned.

now she resorts on using,
what this third-world country used to hate
clueless conscripts, fueled by her colluding grace
’cause she can’t accept, she was not the superior race

but what she needs to know,
only battles were won and lost, and a new era has began.
and that every strategic fight in the past,
wont matter now to the general’s son.

for the war wounds of the past will only be felt,
by the army that believed she would never bend.
she can raise the battle cry, but nobody will listen,
for the new people has finally found peace in the land.

the fascist screams, still she won’t accept defeat,
that as high and proud as she was,
she can’t believe her flag was pulled down in one beat,
forgotten by the revolution that she looks down to as she spits.

and the fascist screams.