The Fall

Memories of an old Airman

The flesh burns

The bitter taste of iron fills my mouth

The smell of blood permeates my nostrils…

But it is not mine

I hear their screams of anguish echoing all around

They are the fallen

They are the dead

Spirits of those who met their end at my hand

Spirits who were then consumed in my rage

In my blood lust

In my never ending hunger

My need to find that brief moment of peace

The peace that is only known in times of war

In times of suffering

Demon dost this make me

Or simply a tool of the Gods

To bring forth the End

To bring forth a new Beginning

To bring forth the Fall

Reviews

[Wolfhilde]

a dark, sad but powerful poem. I liked it!