With my pike I swing away,
For it is my enemy I have to slay,
I do not wish to die in war,
For it is filled, with blood and gore.
As I charge into battle,
All I hear, is my armor rattle,
I run and strike,
Impaling a man, with my pike.
Standing there in my might,
This man had given up the fight,
The man before me I have seen,
At the time, we were only teens.
That man, fallen to the ground,
My world had turned upside down,
That man put to his end,
I had realized this was a sad end,
For he was, my best friend.
please don't judge too harshly this is my first ever poem, I would appreciate if you gave me tips, hints or grammar correction
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Like it, for your first poem its very very good. A great write. May i invite you to read my new poem called, The Corrupt.