Our Boots

We match up the hill

We head for victory 

Our boots muddy and smelly

Trampling upon roses leaving a foot path behind

The sounds of our boots are like the hooves of a thousand buffaloes as it runs from the claws of a fierce lion.

The smile on our faces portrays war

The anger in our voices blows the trumpet of death

The scars and healing sores on our bodies & faces radishes the flag of disaster 

The rain showers our bodies and makes us feel revived

As it rains, streams of blood flows down the hill

Rain!!

Rain!!

But it doesn’t stop us from conquering

Water & fire are enemies but the heavier it rained the blacker and thicker the smoked puffs into the heavens

Trees wave their hands in salute as warriors and war losers march past

Thunder roars!!!

Lightening smiles and displays an array of lines in the skies

Lines as if a glass is about to be shattered

Our voices makes beasts run and makes the earth quake

After a week of no food

No water

Or sleep

Our eyes red as scarlet

We breath heavily 

Our ears open and sharpened to any sound of a living thing

We kill

We destroy

Pain is our friend

Blood is our wine

Flesh is our food

The rage of blood excites us

The voices of yelling women and children entertains us

We know not love

We know not peace

We know not sunshine

We know not paradise

We know Our boots.

© ✨I AM😎✨

(Poem from the book I’m writing. One night With The Warlord)