Spoils of War

We were free to decide,
Between a rock and a hard place.
While the women cried,
Black tears down a pale face.

Figures hiding in the black,
Faceless foes surround us,
We pile them up in a stack,
Lost deep in a blood lust.

Taking them down,
We are called away.
In whispers we drown.
As if we knew what to say.

One thing I never knew,
Was what we were looking for.
What did we do,
To find spoils of war?

Spoils of War

Butchered flesh and broken bones,
Litter the bloody creek.
Rubble where there were once homes,
And silence is all we speak.

Praying rusty to the deaf,
Aches of a thousand hills,
Marched, left right left.
Take aim and shoot to kill.

Bombs on drums and searing lead,
Wailing on the guitar.
The bassist is gone, shot down dead,
As the rest of us are.

One thing I never guessed,
Was what we were looking for,
We sold our souls and all the rest,
We found our spoils of war.

Spoils of war.

The End

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