Spoliarium

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Long gone hear the
Cries of
Oppressed
Unwashed bloodstained remain
Defaced

Hardened arm
Shackled
Unease

Agonized
Dungeon
Awaits
Fate

As if they
Dances among
The
Dead

An old man holding
A torch
Tiptoeing at the shocked carcass
In the dark
Tried to seek
His fallen son
An important moment
Of his dearly most

Wife sat at the side
She suffers
As he laid on the dirt
More than the wound
That bleed to death
Wail
Like a banshee
No one seem
To hear

He did paid the price
The crime
He did not commit

Uproar crowd
Faces of euphoric hysteria
Vicious eyes of rage
Maniacal cruelty
Rolled at the floor
Reverberated in frenzied lust
As the Roman soldier
Dragged the dead
Down the dark spoliarium
Piled like haystack in the field.

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