I woke to my home under attack
To thousands of soldiers gleaming, black:
A swarm who stormed and surged through lands unknown.
This couldn’t stand! I wouldn’t let it!
I’d destroy them and they wouldn’t forget it!
They had trod upon an angry god and would atone.
They pillaged my grains and raided my stores,
An army well-versed in waging wars,
But to draw my ire is to play with fire, as they would learn.
Though try as I might, I found not their source
From whence dispensed such grandiose force.
They were unaware of whom they dared, and for that would burn.
At first I slew with a callous ease,
Wiping out hundreds as though they were fleas.
On the spot I spared no thought and lost no sleep.
In response, they surged in scores
And soon, their bodies littered the floors
To avoid the stain of bodies slain, I started to sweep.
And as I swept, still pouring, they came.
And I rent them asunder, and rendered them lame,
And I began to wonder the sound of thunder that they must hear.
“It must be,” I mused, “that they simply are flawed,
That they’re unaware sinners in the hands of a god.”
Yet still I killed and spilled their blood, for they knew no fear.
Our battle was ended long after ’twas fun,
And I stood alone, for alone I had won.
And I, out of fear, would no longer hear my warlike chants.
Had it been right to wield such power?
To destroy them completely and expect them to cower?
A fraud of a god, for I am a man, and they were but ants.