Vicious Are They
They who fight side by side,
the only thing to justify
is the life for which they strive
it warms their hearts to a boil
giving them reason to butcher.
The only comfort their ideals:
kill or be killed,
fight or be destroyed,
break not or watch your brother be broken.
Push forward and crush,
all the while fields of barley fill their mind,
push forward and maim,
dreaming of their family and home.
One eye on the enemy's blade,
the other on sweet memories of day.
They see spears, sharp and wicked
hurled towards the embrace of their wives and children.
The unyielding machine
well oiled and made of flesh,
fueled with raw emotion,
piercing naked skin cunningly.
Each shriek of horror let out,
boosters to the machine's morale.
Gleaming eyes peer always forward,
that is where victory lies toward.
Blood stained is the ground
as they lay their spears down,
only to be picked up again
for they fight side by side
and shoulder to shoulder.
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Comments about this poem (Vicious Are They by Saltedpeanut Blank )
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