Hero

A short poem I wrote once

A hero
That’s what they called me
A hero
Or a bringer of death?
I tore lives apart
I slaughtered
I broke
I shattered
All for a cause I believed in
But still I wonder
Was I in the wrong?
I still remember all the
Blood
So much blood
Blooming stains on a uniform
Dried blood on a tear stained fearful face
Puddles on the field
Soaking into the
Dirt
Facedown crying
Lying in the dirt
Dark as night
The dirt supports life
But we bring
Death
It comes and takes us all
In the end
But we force the hand of fate
We rush the end
And bring death
Is this right?
Who are we to know
Who are we
To force the hand of fate?