I am just a soldier. But I am not alone.
Some of us are bolder. Some will stay unknown.
The drums will beat beneath the feet of a thousand metal boots.
With weapons drawn, we tarry on
to sow our violent fruits.
We arrest on untilled land,
a motley crew,
a dangerous band,
this final place,
this last stand,
our conflicted wonderland.
A sword appears from mists as thick as the hell which we are going.
I jump back with fear,
I swipe to clear,
my tears which now are flowing.
I’ve been stabbed, my clothes run red.
Adrenaline keeps me nearly dead.
The shouts and yells echo overhead.
What is this place where I’ve been led?
A screaming face comes from the fog,
my desperate- injured analog.
He wields an axe with measured skill,
I raise my shield to stop the kill,
he sends a boot into my shin,
My bulwark strikes into his chin.
He staggers back with added rage,
But hesitant, to re-engage.
Now we stand, a moment lost,
I see his eyes regard the cost,
His jaw hangs loose and crimson red.
A bubbled curse is what he’s said.
But I’m not done- nor is he.
Between ally and enemy,
our middle ground is a sight to see
Though not for him, only for me.
So I've been Working on this one for a while. Let me know if the flow feels off anywhere. I don't think it is good to go yet.