Blood Soldiers

A Poem by WaynEZ

A little something on my mind. ALmost poem, almost song.

In the back room nursing my wounds
screams of comrades
final moments, meeting their doom
typhoons of bullets
striking like lightning
i duck low
crawl slow
so enemies won't find me
blindly feeling across the wall for a door
my face stone cold
but I'm shaken heavily at my core
found the knob
and slipped past dead men that were considered gods in basic training
i suppose battle alters survival odds
the rival dogs
barking orders to subordinates
relinquishing coordinates
they're damn lucky i'm not recording it
I pull my side arm as they split up
i'm as silent as a robber
shot one in the dome
blood eruption, hot lava
panic is contagious
turn the pages
I'm escaping
best friend dead weight
the war wages
different stages of grieving
i'm stuck in rage
and my fellow soldiers catch it
like the bubonic plague