The Death March

Short poem about the dangers of a war torn society.

Strung together by chains. They march down the streets out of town. The crowd's scream with no remorse kill kill kill. The children brought up to hate. The prisoners march in tone of a drum. Stomp stomp stomp. Each stomp closer to death. Each breath closer to hell. Brutality is the only means for peace. When cities normality reaches insanity the devils the dictator. Twelve men lined up to reach the same fate. Different backgrounds different reasons all brought together by the same death. Hearts pounding faster and faster. On the front lines twelve men holding guns. Aimed at the prisoners. The leader more cruel than the devil himself yells open fire.Nothing but explosions of the bullets leaving the guns can be heard. The leaders yell's hold your fire. Silence. Only breaths could be heard. The dust settles on the ground. Twelve souls evacuated. Twelve soul's reaching the same destination. Death.