Davida

Not my best, but different. Taken from my writing tumblr, losing-the-generation.

Davida

"Father, no.  Please don’t." 

I whisper, as he puts his sword in hand

Uniform on, raggedy and worn

as if ready to confront death.

He doesn’t look at me

As he walks out

to join the battle up ahead

I can hear the angry growls of war

The screams of dying men

They overshadow my cries for mercy.

There’s a voice above it all,

Louder and deeper than the rest

That does not cry out in anguish or defeat

His voice screams  cruelly and invitingly.

He challenges men left and right

Runs them through with his foul blade

Yells out in sickly victory

And moves on to the closest soldier.

My father’s regiment lines up

One by one approaching him

And I know that he’s closer

With every death

To his own.

I’m too small, mother has told me

Too weak and just too frail

I could never kill a man like this

But I’ll try until the blade runs through me.  

My left hand grabs a rock or two

As my right hand holds the sling

I pray to no one in particular

I pray for father’s life.

I cut my hair with a nearby knife

So this demon cannot grab it

I put  the knife back,

 I won’t need it

And I look at the growing casualties

I most likely will join hereafter.

Step by step I walk out

And step by step I’m on my knees

I’ve come to terms with my demons

In these last few minutes

And now it’s time to battle this one.

He’s too busy with my neighbour 

To notice I’ve stepped up

I shush my village’s fear

And I swing.

One

Two

Three

THWAP!

It hits.

One 

Two

Three

THWAP!

It hits again.

The monster has fallen

And he’s calling to see who the victor is

With my short, brown hair, I stand by him.

"You’re just a boy! How is this?" 

He coughs out

Promptly dying in defeat

If only he had lived long enough to know

A girl can do just as much.

Author's Note

Definitely not my best, but it's different.