TROOPS PATRIOTS AND DEATH

They extend their arms as a sloth
When gloom wraps them `round rigid bone
The powdery magic seeks out our grief.
Awaiting the warrior character upon his cannon
It does not travel down the barrel
Rather it thrusts outward to another’s eye
And makes bed within their thinking regret,
Nestled in, it toils a moment and seeks new prey.

They extend their arms as a sloth
When gloom wraps them `round rigid bone
And the dark arms move forth of misery.
Call not to stilled grief or hardened warrior
But to God! Demand His army lower their death
And extinguish their mournful pursuit
That they might end a world’s shrieking tongue!