A poem I wrote once, with sudden inspiration from a violent friend.

Enjoy.

Blood, blood, everywhere
Corpses lying in heaping mounds
Of soldiers, their alliance unknown
Signs of war, all around
And the smell of death in the air.

The war, it happened not long ago
The Empire and Rebels, both sides tense
Suddenly, a soldier’s cry was heard
The savage war, it occurred hence
And they knew there was death in the air.

The battle raged on, for hours on end
Both armies equal, no man unmatched
If a soldier had killed a rebel,
He himself by a rebel was slashed
With the war cries of “Death!” in the air.

Then the war ended, the Empire defeated,
A rebel and his king were the last to stand
But the ruler collapsed of a fatal wound
And yet, his passing away was grand,
For Death himself was present there.

The battle was won, but all else lost,
As the rebel had sadly found,
There was no point of living, and as the vultures looked on,
He stabbed himself and fell to the ground.
And there was nothing but death in the air.

I love the ending, I also love the lines.

"If a soldier had killed a rebel,
He himself by a rebel was slashed"

Lovely job, you have a way with words.

very nice
like it
thx
good job

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