Argument

A small poem.

Raging bull breaking a barrel
Tasting the ashes of happiness.
Seeking for the grey, waving flag,
But finding a knife cold as ice.

Stomps covering the arena.
Sweat and tears as water.
Red, black, white, grey
All now brown and blue.

A fallen hero marches with a sword
And a rusty axe in his hands helmet on head
He throws his weapons and falls
In a prayer for the real ox.