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The Fall Of Troy

No blade could break the sacred walls of Troy, Ten years of blood, of grief, of hollow joy. Then silence spoke inside a restless mind, Where war was lost — by force — but won by time. A whisper born where cunning meets despair, Not strength of arm, but thought would end the snare. They left the shore, the fires reduced to ash, A horse stood still where waves had used to clash. “An offering,” they said, “to end this war,” Blind faith unlocked the unbreakable door. Laocoön warned, his words were cast aside, For truth sounds false when pride becomes the guide. A gift of wood, a lie of sacred breath, A prayer to gods that carried hidden death. They opened gates to what they could not see, And welcomed fate disguised as victory. The city burned before the sun could rise, Its towers bowed to cunning dressed as guise. Not by the spear did Ilion finally fall, Nor by the strength of shields or heroes tall. A whispered plan, a silent chosen few, Unmade a world no army ever slew. A gift of wood, a lie of sacred breath, A prayer to gods that carried hidden death. They opened gates to what they could not see, And welcomed fate disguised as victory. Night fell — and with it fell all doubt and fear, The belly split, the hidden names appeared. From hollow ribs, the chosen slipped to ground, No trumpet cried, no mercy made a sound. A gift of wood, a lie of sacred breath, A prayer to gods that carried hidden death. They opened gates to what they could not see, And welcomed fate disguised as victory. A gift of wood, a lie of sacred breath, The quiet path that led them all to death. Remember Troy when wars are said and done: The sharpest blade is thought — not sword nor sun.