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Battle Field

The enemies’ swords

Cut and cut again.

The smell of cordite

Brought me to my knees.

I said please

Don’t you remember

The words I said?

I bled out for you,

That is not true,

Best put aside, laid to rest.




I said no!

Your wounds will heal

That’s the deal.

We patch you up

And you can fight

With what you steal.

I came out,

Blood oozed

No doubt of that;

And weak

from the blows

I had taken.

I picked up a sword.

The word was out,

He is in slaying mood,

Let’s watch.

I carved and cut

And from where I stood

many lay dead.

I could smell the death

With each breath I took.

Don’t look away now

What else we can unearth?

Published inAllegoriesWar & Acrimony