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.
But
No!
But
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?
