Why yes, I'd love to be a pawn 

in your aimless games of war.

Don't you know that I am drawn

to slaughter, pain, and gore?


Of course I'll kill my fellow men

but not without a vulgar fight.

No doubt in mind, just tell me when, 

I'll proudly die for life. 


I'll stab and shoot, I'll crush their skulls.

Their blood will rust on me. 

Weakest of all will first be culled, 

since they're just mere debris. 


Surely I'll be your bravest stallion, 

striding through a body brocade.

On your command I'll wipe out a battalion

with the help of my agile grenade. 


I'll wear my patriotism with sharpness,

my gear soaked with fear, never bland.

And when screams turn to silence and fire to darkness,

As expected I'll take Death's cold hand. 


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741