SOLDIER

(Destined to be forgotten)

There he stands like a shield of peace;

Burying his worries deep within him.

Ignoring the bite of frost and wind;

Cuddling the metal like his own kid.

He will not close his eyelids for once;

Looking for wolves those upset the peace.

For he is called the warrior of might;

Might that grant his country, its sleep.

Listening beyond the whistling winds;

For the sound of a rival’s breathe.

Breath that may lead him to choke;

In his own blood gurgling the throat. 

Somewhere there across the line;

Another barrel holds a cold lead.

Lead that bore his name on it;

Thirsty for his blood and life.

Thoughts of dear ones embrace him;

Very next moment he flings them away.

Though the memories melt him down;

Never deviates from the line of duty.

The metal, dead cold numbs his palms;

But can’t spread the numbness to soul.

For he is the warrior of might;

Might that let him stand as a shield.