Standing alone in a scorched-out field
My body’s weary, and my spirit concealed
Only crows around picking their food
The air is screaming; my vision is skewed
And so I’m standing, the last of the many
The smell of the rotting corpses is heady
We fought for eternity, or just for one day
Our enemies thousands, no one’s to pay
I dropped my shield, discarded the sword
I’m not buying into another damn plot
I gave up my soul, cheapened my life
From this field, I return, beaten and knifed
I’m nursing my sorrow, like a bird in a palm
I could snuff out its spark, feeling no qualms
Should I suffer alone, drenched in blood
Should I be ashamed, smeared in mud?
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(c) JG 2024
Scorched
© Copyright: Юлия Галицкая, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126032400283
Свидетельство о публикации №126032400283
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