From the unpredictable dawn
to the bloodied sunset,
Life was never guaranteed,
with the enemy, I had to bet.
Missions after missions,
drained me of my youth.
Long gone, my belief for fighting,
as I didn’t know anymore, the truth.
Fighting for my country, my home,
gave me the strength and purpose.
When the horrors of the battlefield,
shattered my moral compass.
Uniforms and flags meant nothing,
to the dark hooded figure with its scythe.
Patiently waited and watched,
as the men profusely in pain, did writhe.
The Collector of souls,
eagerly glided towards me.
And I felt my body being frozen,
darkness engulfed, I couldn’t flee.
Complete abyss behind the hood,
no face, no nothing.
With its long skeleton fingers,
lifted my chin; my heartbeat rushing.
After a thorough inspection,
it seemed unsatisfied.
Retreat into the battlefield,
it did, my throat was all dried.
As I lay there in the mud and blood,
unsure of what I had seen.
Somewhere in my mind perplexed,
a voice said, “Spared, you have been.”
Even after so many years had gone by,
my soldier life behind me and all clean.
I still cannot forget what I had witnessed,
neither can it be ever unseen.
A fulfilled life it was for me,
and I’m at peace in the end.
I’m too old now and waiting
for my unsatisfied hooded friend.
Image source : fanpop.com