I walk these Killing Fields
As I touch the wind of death;
Surrounded by the colour of war
And the taste of recycled breath.
As the Fallen lay,
The beasts and the dogs
Scavenge on the wounded
Beneath the fog.
Bodies stark,
With Shattered hearts,
With tattered souls
And minds ripped apart
They are Drowning in
The deepest dark
Of the unknown
In a downing arc.
Or drying up
beyond the shoals
To reignite
A dying spark.
In a constant chase
For a safe abode
In hopes a status
Upon bestowed.
Connection seeking
To a node to claim,
Bracing for the traps
That lay on the road.
Slaughtered guards
And crumbled walls,
Brandished cards
And tumbled falls;
So hard it's as if
One hit their head
Bewildered to the sweet words
That are said.
These killing fields
Amidst the hell
Of deceptive others
And lies they tell.
The once pure
Are left behind,
Their lives outplayed
Now dead inside.
Made beasts and dogs;
Old skin has peeled
As they wander through
These punishing air
Of these Killing Fields.
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Tainted From a Broken Heart - Poems
PoetryWhen one has their heart broken one too many times, then they become prone to letting go the next person they fall for a little easier. Possibly they no longer feel or maybe they fear from it happening again. Emotionally numb or snake bitten, their...
