The Horrors of War
(NB The character in this poem does not belong to any country but is generic.)
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The sirens howl.
I can smell the fear
I sow in the city.
My super gun can tear
Through buildings
Where innocent people
Lie huddled in despair.
I do not gloat.
My heart is ice.
I have a job to do.
I feel all powerful
like a god.
I lie flat on the roof
High on a building.
The sun is high,
Scorching unrelenting,
blinding like a furnace
grilling sweat out of me.
Yet I lie still
And watch the streets
For the hated enemy.
He'll come.
He never learns.
He too thinks
he's like a god.
One of us may be dead tonight.
Or both!
Who knows who?
Far away I see the hill tops,
where eagles dare to fly.
Below the happy pastures,
the luscious grasses tall and fine.
Sheep graze, and women watch.
I feel the desires of old.
I wake to the present.
I know my job.
Who can beat me?
They will not see me,
Nor flee from me,
They'll die at my hand.
For I fight legitimacy.
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