The Scourge

This is a reworking of a poem I wrote almost three years ago. I'm still not much of a poet, but I have improved. The emotion in this poem deserved better than my original words conveyed.

-The Scourge-

They had marched and fought for months with little food to eat
And several weeks had passed since they last had tasted meat

They marched ore fallen logs, and through the powd'ry fresh snow
Praying the morn to see, along with sun and its warm glow

The howling wolf and freezing fog, had beckoned in the night
A time that ev'n hardened men must wrestle fits of fright

That great and mighty men should fear, is unbelievable you say
Yet through fear they pushed on through conflict night and day

Courage, it is said, means not the lack, but rather, facing fears
This these men had done, holding fast through blood and tears

"War is a Scourge," we hear is what the wise men have all said
They'll be shown right, when in the morn, our heroes are all dead