A Narrative

Toy soldiers in rank and file
Marching down mouldering steps
To breathe in a casket

Brimstone-stained hubris
The dead walk
The screams of others echoing inside

Bloodlust
Blind joy in battle
The crunch of bones satisfying their primal urges

Sneering pride turned tail
Steel tips sing their pursuit
A mocking grin turned panicked frown

Screaming, swirling chaos
Frantic flight and cries for aid
Thoughtless slaughter of shattering souls

A last stand
A final blow
It is not over, but merely just begun

A gathering up of baubles
Mere trinkets to satisfy magpie eyes
Carelessly neglecting of consequences macabre

A soul
A shell
A creation of horror

Death and life
In synchronous dance
A perilous balance precariously kept

Pleas ignored
Balance kept
Waiting in apprehension

Aid is brought
Though relief is short
A bullheaded ignorance of knowledge freely offered

Dismissal
Lacking discussion
Solutions considered and tossed aside

A postponement of resolution
A stopgap measure enacted
A bandage on a gaping wound

40 souls have been obliterated
Each put on the chopping block by a madman
But the axe swung by supposed heroes

S

Not bad, Skald. I owe you some coin for this next feast, I think. We should discuss your work.

The children train
Growing with blades
All for pain


Blood is spilled
People suffer
From the heroes hilt


From blinding light
To choking darkness
All men must fight


Good or bad
Light or dark
It's the people who hide


For they wait and hope
Beg and pray
That a hero will save the day


But no call is answered
So the people die
Believing in a lie


Heroes are fake
Pain is always felt
We play the hand we are dealt


For life is fleeting
Time is fading
And blood is what we are paying


We find our place
We find our destiny
So that we may earn a face

Hold your scribblings, boy. There was a point to my writings. An actual tale told. A warning given.
If you wish to pen verses extolling virtues of pacifism, do so elsewhere. And at a time where you have learned to use your words in a manner fitting a grown man, rather than an angst-ridden child.

I applaud your attempt to better yourself with the written word, but this is not a schoolhouse task, given to you to write with slate and chalk.

S

How familiar this is to me more and more as I read it to myself.
And how I wish more to interpret it as I do.
To those lacking the knowledge; it is...Interesting...Nonetheless.

Bravo,
-J