Blizzards In The Plains
The white flags been waved
Still they march us in a path never paved
Sickness possess my lungs
I cover my mouth to cough
To find my hand coated in blood.
I fall and with hostile force pulled up.
MARCH, INJUN, MARCH!
Snow and hail beat furiously from the skies.
The women, children, and even warriors cry.
Wasn’t the white flag a plea for our lives?
What did we do to deserve to die?
The mountain fields fill with those dying and killed
Their blood still spills across the fields
Fresh snow starts to build
Upon the blood and corpses.
My body’s lost all feeling but the pain in my heart worsens.