Et Tu Brute

Oh most noble Roman!

Naivety best showman.

Sweet words deceive the caring heart.

Hark! For foe brings hither friends cruel part.

With green eyes, a group of snakes charm the black sheep.

Such men do not allow greatness to sleep.

Restless and weary, prudence is pondered for only so long.

A begging conscience will allow the mind to rest with a sweet song.

Ear muffs do work wonders.

Ominous signs from a sky that thunders.

Gathering on the day of ides,

On their knees they plead before plebeians eyes.

Then they strike and two visions erupt:

One, cowards who strike the back with traitors dagger, poisoned and corrupt;

Second, the liberators of tyranny.

Future learners laugh at history’s cruel irony.

Mark the spot and hark! For two skilled starlings do sing!

It is the caged birdsong that stings.

Quarreling geese do fly north, to the young crows of whom death is their ally.

Death speaks, “I’ll meet you in Philippi.”

Meet at the charging lines.

Flickering in the sun, swords wait for blood to pay their fine.

Let words have their fun.

Two battles are soon over and done.

One loss, one victory, but that does not save a life;

Victory wreaths are ready to be awarded, but the victor’s body brings strife.

Lay a conquer’s helmet on a corpse head,

Then conquer thy self with selfs hand; the dirty, blooded soil becomes death’s bed.

Dante will visit you soon.

Into the inferno, Lucifer grants you only one boon.

The final stand has met the end.

Loyal servant with pseudonym enters the lion’s den.

Most noble of all Romans run forward into the darkness's embrace.

Even the enemy recognizes the honorable man, so that he will be buried not in disgrace.

“Et tu Brute.”

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