Fire and screams,
Projected from a,
Torture and death,
Entwines this pillage,
Among the pain stands,
A man with the,
A blood soaked sword,
Rests against his thigh,
He grins at hearing,
An anguished cry.
He grabs hold of a child's hair,
Cowering at his feet,
Blind with tears, frozen in fear,
Slicing it's soft throat,
The child's blood,
Sprays and floats,
Reflecting the flames,
As it invades the air,
As the blood spreads on the ground,
This man entranced, he stares,
© Copyright 2016 Tyrone Slade. All rights reserved.
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