What Killed the Revolution

What Killed the Revolution
You ask me what this revolution was, well that I can not say, it was a feeling we felt on that very day. This was our time to scream and shout, our glory to shine from the inside out. A war so beautiful, a revolution so bright; the cause so sweet, the cry so right. We took the power from a monarchy, we fought for the right to be free. We gained a leader, a despot if you will, but the voice of people was not still. Francos listened to our mind and was one of our kind, when the people sighed, Francos cried! So I ask you this question which has been plaguing my mind, I mean this out of my heart for all our kind; what killed the Revolution?

I ask this question out of interest of all, where did we lose what we once saw? When did we trade in our values and cores for a world of military whores? The banner so bright and the symbol so plain, of human right and human gain. Now that banner so dull and the symbol no more, a banner of null and a symbol of gore. So I ask once again this question on my mind, what killed the Revolution?

And then one day, Franco’s last, we looked forward from the past. We swore forever to hold the Order dear and not end on a parting tear. We changed and grew from that day more, but never lost our parting chore; to hold the banner till the end of days, for Franco’s name we will always raise. Yet now when you ask of the days gone by, you are given but lies and deny. We lost the way we could voice a stand, learn our history, and raise our clan; so now I must ask this question to you, what killed the Revolution?

We fought against these forces for so long, but the victory is long gone. Yes, while we won the battle we had lost the war; we lost the cause worth fighting for. The enemies that we had taken the field and beat, we must find their names under the leader seat. Maybe our greatest appeal is our worst defeat; we look to the enemy and they we greet. I welcome those we once called foe but now we have lost the revolution we did sow. So I ask, out of pain of the soul, what killed the Revolution?

The values and motto we share now I look to in despair; Franco’s I pray that you might help us once more take up the fight. An Order where people look for war and the hope of peace now holds no galore. Strength has passed over us all, where we once stood united together in blood; we all now look to be the stud. And over the broken dreams of all, the shattered windows, the violent squall; prosperity is hiding there, but I fear finding it is no ones care. I look at this world we hold so dear, the question becomes more clear, what killed the Revolution?

The leaders now will question me, my intent on this piece of liberty. They will ask me why I say such things, but they will never understand the fight against kings. They do not know what was in the air, the electricity back there. They did not feel the way we did, for they fought to destroy on all we bid. While one or two might stand here today, the leadership role they do not play. Pawns to the king is what they hold, they speak and say as they are told. To justify the present they must alter the past, and that is treason on Franco’s last. So I know the answer to the question I hold, but once again I am not sold, what killed the Revolution?

So now my question is not of what, why, or how. I ask who will stand and answer the call, yell out in this hallowed hall, grab the banner and scale the wall, and renounce this thrall! Who will answer this call to arms, who will take this noble stand, comrade, for the Revolution is once more at hand.