21. War

I sheath my sword and put down my shield
Place my armor onto its rack.
They wear the signs of battles fought
Of those I won and those I lost.
My banner's flapping in the evening wind
Tattered and stained from war.
Bloody bandages cover fresh wounds
Some of them might become scars.

I am so weary of these battles
These dances of win and defeat
Some of them may have a good cause,
But in the end, the victor bleeds.
I fought along allies and against them
Sometimes against myself
In the end, the one thing mattering
Is that I survived again.

So now I sit here in my dark tent
And hear the distant battle cries
While the drums beat and pipes do sing
The ground drinks blood of those who die.
I'm glad the noise outside will drown the sound
Of my tears as I break down.
Just stay away, let me catch my breath
Before I'll be strong once more.