Shitting Razorblades

With a whispered air there's a broken stream,
Which the mutant man gives an awesome scorn.
An emboldened mind breathes a noble dream,
But a filthy, blackened, creature's born.
Feelings reverberate amongst the pledges,
To Quest of Quests stopping red scorn dead.
Creatures gather 'round Quest's ragged edges,
With flames of passion burning dead ahead.
A million ants clash red and black and silent,
Battles as per angels perched way up high.
On the ground it's deep and dark and violent,
As creatures and pledges scream, bleed and die.
To whit we come to the moral of our story,
Quests for noble causes bring death, not glory.