Monday, November 23, 2015

The Arena

In the center
Of the arena
They stood, a
Mindless throng
Yelling at them
To do the

They looked one
Another over,
Trying to determine
If one or the
Other will leave
The arena alive.

One uttered words
That were a mess
Of sounds to the
Other. They did
Not even speak
The same language.

Strangers being
Forced to kill

With the energy
Of the mad crowd
About them,
They attached,
Not out of anger,
Not out of malice,
But out of the need
To survive.

Before long, one
Was struck down,
And with the crowds
insistence the other
Rendered his opponent

As the arena
Grew quiet,
A sense of clarity
Descended upon
The survivor.
Small hands released
The bloodied axe.
The child fell
To its knees.

They were but
Children, not quite
Men and women,
And yet they were
Forced to do
What we are
Reluctant to do.

As he wept
Over the slain
Child, a girl
Who would never
Become a woman,
A guard scooped
Him up.

The guard would not
Return him to the
Cage that had been
His home. He
Would be taken
To the barracks,
He would become
A soldier, serving
The empire.

But before he
Ever serves his
Country, the empire,
The child had to
Lose his soul.

Image Credit: galleryhip

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