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She moves him ‘round the chess board,
dodging bishops, pawns and rooks.
She coaxes him from square to square
without a second look.

The white knight cannot catch him.
Piece by piece, the foe now yields.
Her king is safe; the game is done.
The queen controls the field.
LWZ Sep 2020
A pawn and not a rook
Out of my mind and heading home
I could have changed my mind and headed by your side
So unnecessary and cruel
I won the Bet
And took what was left

See what’s next.
Try your best.
Until I finally put this to rest
SA Szumloz May 2020
The cold steel of my gun
Reassures my broken mind
Empowering me, filling me up
With a darkness that's entwined
With a pain that burns like the sun

The quiet boy you've ignored
That only sought acceptance
Isn't me anymore
So, prepare for penance
Because death is at your door.

I am done being the pawn
In this cruel game of yours
I wish I was gone
But my soul soars
For this will be the dawn

When all this pain wrapped in a bow
Will simply... Explode!
Thoughts? This is probably the darkest poem I ever wrote.
Peter Farsje Feb 2020
March! March! March!
Marketing's pounding drum.

Beat! Beat! Beat!
Hear the thundering feet.

Come one, Come all!
Answer the piper's call.

Act fast! Act fast!
The sale will not last!

Need, Need, Need!
You will not be freed.

Credit, Credit, Credit!
As long as you can get it.

Spend, Spend, Spend!
Will it never end?

Pawn, Pawns, Pawns,

The illusion We are in control.
Damien Dec 2019
I am but a pawn in this world
Just another piece of their game
One that can be disposed of without hesitation
Either they do it, or I do

What is the difference?
- Oct 2019
walk like a pawn
until the end
until you transform
walk like a pawn
and see yourself
as the king or queen
Ruheen Sep 2019
The pawn
The soldier.
The warrior.
And the first to die.
Used by his king.
Killed by his enemies.
Remembered by no one.
In a kingdom,
Where the royals prevail,
There is no room
For a measly soldier.
Rougher than a knight.
Weaker than a bishop.
Shorter than a rook.
And powerless against all.
The pawn protects,
Everyone but himself.
Such wasted talent.
RVani Kalyani Jun 2019
Pardon my actions if they are wrong,
Atleast inform me if it gets too long,
To see up the sky and follow the dawn,
Remember this thing- I'm not a pawn.
David Hasselblad Apr 2019
Devils of saintly virtues?
Or a saint of sin?
Who is evil or good?
Who bestowed such titles?

A boisterous ***** baron?
Ordained by dour dukes?
Spilled blood to pave a road?
Does your honor sunder and erode?

Was it virtuous to shove innocents?
To put them under lock and key?
Saintly, to make them fear?
Courage, to turn a blind eye?

Is it a sin to feed the starving enemy?
A devil to help a dying foreigner breath?
Bereave their suffering?
To feel guilt when malnourished prisoners beg for feed?

What makes you so noble?
Foible flags, and an adorable mantra?
A little training makes it right?
Maybe you know it does not,

Paving roads with bones and blood?
Did you join to fire a gun?
To retrieve bullets from inside of someone?
To stand for your flag and defend?

Does a medal wash away those sins?
All forgiven because you won?
Bombs dropped and humanity undone,
Another chapter in the book of justification,

Titled, ‘War is Hell’
The history of death, peace unsung,
Souls seized, leaders appeased,
From rot, money and disease,

Waiting for battle under south side trees,
What makes you better then them?
Education? A uniform?
Signing your life away to conform?

What if your not as noble as you seem?
Noble intentions in a hellish scene,
In total might, what if neither is right?
A hired killer of a higher power,

Atrocities in the name of swell intentions,
Killing for Lord Benton, or General Jenkins,
Does what you read make you mad?
Or sad?

Will war ravished ruffians take pity?
Is it wrong if they slaughter and **** your life?
Everyone in it?
Will your god founded, blessed flag save you?

Maybe they are right,
After all,
You did it to them first,
Suddenly it’s wrong? No chalking up to war is hell?

Maybe you’re lost,
Maybe notches on your gun makes you proud of past,
Maybe feel lied to, in a cloud,
Or maybe you’re a demonic psychopath,

The history of Saints is usually tattered with sin,
Passing volatile judgements upon men,
Devils usually do what they are asked,
Whether or not it should come to pass,

After all,
It was conflict that caused Edens fall,
Do you care if you’re right or wrong?
You, mercenary of the flag?

When is wrong, right?
Right, wrong?
Call you hero and sing your song,
Will history see it like you?

After all,
Stonewall made innocent civilians fall,
Regarded hero,
Instructed by a drunk,

Who are you?
What makes you so great?
Why are you right?
Why are you wrong?

In the end, I don’t care if you think,
Or ask yourself stated questions,
That’s not my biz,
Simply put...
It is what it is..
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