The Nothing Warriors

I catch the red iron dawn

just as it fades away into

morning. The golden globe

of light rises over the

fields that I call home.

The invading forces that

pillaged my village are all

gone, their efforts to

destroy all they could in

their path spent, and the results

are all here to show. The wooden

houses that we called home have

all turned to ashes, set ablaze

with all the hate of our adversaries.

I am the last standing upon the blood

stained hill and I feel nothing.

Nothing at all. The corpses of

the damned lie around me,

grinning up at me with sightless

eyes and open chests. Their

fingers point at me, mocking me,

telling me that they have all gone

ahead, I am left here. But

there is nothing for me here,

and in the end, we will all

turn to dust. And yet, seeing the

copper turn to blue in the horizon

makes me think of new beginnings.

Perhaps I could join a new village,

make a new home for myself. That

would be wonderful.

Author's Note

Is this too cluttered? I feel that there's something off about this poem.

Reviews

[Asra Hakak]

positive vibes at the end gives a great lesson
every end is followed by a new start