Awake, I awake and hear sounds of death.
I awake with heavy breath.
“Where am I?” I asked, forgetting my snore
An answer: “My friend, this is war!”
I have to say that I’m afraid to admit
But truthfully, I was scared more than a bit.
So when I got up, and brought my gun to the window,
I heard sounds of rage, and the nearby tree’s biggest bough
The sky, it rained fire.
The sky, it was filled with ire.
And the flames, they flailed flamboyantly
The enemy, their guns were raised pointedly
Bullets, as they whizzed above and below
My mouth, it was curved, as if to say, “No!”
As my army, as they fell, I hoped they would arise
But no more, as near came the flies.
The gunshots, they came, closer and closer, thus I fell to the floor
Reached for my pistol-yet in vain, it was left behind, left by the door.
The enemy, they passed me by
Was I dead, had I joined the lonesome ghosts’ ranks?
Was my spirit by the banks
Enjoying the taste, of where there was salty air?
Would I be separated from my wife, who was fair?
But I could not leave
I would, and must cleave
Upon this life, for which I worked so hard
Yet this building, it was on fire, soon to be charred
Was that why, why they had so quickly left,
Only to set fire to this house? Quite deft.
With pounding leg and arm, I longed for my farm, yet I became so tired
I needed rest; I needed to abandon the idea of why we were hired.
Slowly, yet surely, the dark came.
It was everywhere, soon the world was all the same
A dark abyss, for which there was no other name but utter blackness
A flash, now unabashed, I live in perfect happiness.