Next to the next,
Order of the few,
In line like Robots,
As a part of a crew.
Making squeaking noises,
Marching here and there,
Flattening everything in it’s sight,
Just like they don’t care.
Shining shapes of fear
Coming by the minute,
Making towns and cities collapse,
As they destroy what’s in it,
Leaving nothing left standing,
No tree or wall to survive,
Humans forced to live underground,
Just to stay alive.
They smell the blood in the air,
Catching victims in its claws,
Torturing them one by one,
In large rooms with sealed doors.
A siren sounds a victory,
More shinning creatures march away,
If any humans are still alive,
They hide to fight another day.
Tags: poetry