Nobles and kings, the hierarchy
mold the land for us to tread on.
Sit and converse around the table.
Its a war council,
plotting.
Some of the residents will greet the forces,
others collapse within their site.
The army marches to clean the streets,
to beat back the mediocres,
to let prosper the ones said to be fit.
No blood is shed, just the tears of the weak,
the meaning of this cleansing is not death
but a mere fact "improvement" is needed in the citizens.
The towns people crumble under the troops scrutinizing glare,
but theres some who stand up and grow from it.
These are the ones they look for, they are the ones that learn.















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