Night Of The Locusts

Scores of dead men strewn across the battlefield
Most of my friends lay with guts revealed.
The few who survived couldn't bury those who died.
It was a feast for kites, a gruesome sight.

We have fought for our lives,
but we envied those who died.
There was no glory in this victory.
On the morrow, we found only sorrow.

We never saw them as a threat,
Left unprepared for their attack.

Under the cover of darkness they fell upon us like locusts.
The moon shrouded by a winged shadow made it difficult to focus.
Amidst the chaos, I heard many grown men cry
And I stood frozen in horror as I watched them die.

Then a blow sent me reeling and a pain jolted through the back of my head
I was numbed from all feeling as I dashed towards the new threat
The next thing I recall was the face of a lad barely half my age.
The instigator of my rage, skewered by the edge of my blade

Then it finally dawned upon me, the extent of this tragedy,
The evil of our enemy to send children on a murderous spree.
They fought like possessed, their innocence repressed.
What hope I had left soon turned into distress.

They fought like beasts, boys that were barely men,
But we were no priests, we became like them.
We inflicted horror, we inflicted agony.
In our terror we lost our sanity.