Battle Cry
I am as subtle as the maker who made me;
I’m not the strongest,
I’m not the bravest,
I’m not the luckiest,
I’m not the smartest,
And definitely not the brightest,
I’m just one who works the hardest.
These words are a battle cry, save your empathy!
Least be assured that I’m a man of fight
For steel is steel and is not subject to the foundry that forged it
My feet are a massif and belly, a fireball.
This poem is a battle cry, only smoke and sirens
Today the toy soldier comes with a grenade.
24/11/2018
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Copyright © Kunda Chamatete | Year Posted 2018
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