Masks painted with understanding.
Butterfly stings kiss my body.
This wicked nightmare sequence is recurring.
The canyon deep scars are my autobiography.

Well-hidden they are under a forced smile
Under the navy jeweled sky.
Rapped and cradled like a pregnable baby,
I sing softly a heinous lullaby.

The stranger in the mirror closes in.
The veiled battles I fight will end in my defeat.
My lily covered mattress awaits for me
Is this my retribution?

I drunk the poison labeled love,
I kissed thy lips of the unknown.
My arteries and veins are drained of warmth
My feeble heart couldn’t take it anymore.

It isn’t built for vile words,
It isn’t created to withstand restrained,
But smile I tell my semi-living self.
Smile;

Serpentine shaped promises,
Slither their way to my conscience.
Love is addressed in corrupt angel voices,
Clouding my sanity.

May the light shine upon the darkness.
May the ruined mend.
Music can speak louder,
Than any word spoken.

It will all be over soon,
When the clock strikes twelve.
When the sun goes to bed,
The night will hold you in a motherly embrace.

Smile my little soldier,
Smile with the crumbling smile you have left.
It may be broken but it’s beautiful
Smile my little champion;  

©2019

-Daphne Bellfield

Determined soldier, soldier on
Keep your head in the zone
Don't lose your positive tone
Please pick up the phone

Drained soldier, soldier on
Long enough to come back home
Back into my loving arms
Please don't leave me all alone

My soldier, soldier on
Do what it takes
For you to win this war
Please come back home

Actions over words
What are words without fire
Fire that moves and burns the world
Licking the flames of your tragedies
And taking you towards a new forest
Where the pasts have burned
Touch the fertile ground of your new mind
Promote yourself from writer to soldier
Don't you dare take your time
Your next words would be your last
Your next move could be the first of firsts
The builder
The fighter
The mightier
The worthier
Everyone knows that glory is in being alive
The only thing more alive that words
Is your body moving to fulfill the words

I look at the maps hanging up on my wall
admiring the world for the best it got
yet i see
Poverty swell and trivial refugees struggle
and there are cardinal power wars
destitute crave for food shelter and cloths

O' why lord ?
"Its the beginning of the horror flick, my son
there are copious others , yet unaddressed and unresolved "

However i reckon
how simple it is to conquer despair hanging up on my wall
For today mighty fighter  
stop and sleep a lil more,
cuddle your love and hold her a lil long
refashion your battle cry  to cry of love
Shed tears its no harm
miracle will happen as you kiss her once more .

You are the puppet fighter, no doubt you are strong
they know your strength , they are foxy back stabbers brother
they'll aflame your soul ,
Don't forget you have love back home ...

The maggot-stained husk of a human nestled on my hand.
Whispered words of worry, and dauntless shades of grey.
And I bellow to the void, "Mother Mary may I be ******!"
and I swear to gods, this bit I remember to this very day
the wind spoke back, with a bitter, pain-soaked reply,
"My child, your time has come, now grow still and die."

Angry, disturbed.
It hurts me to the core.
Ripped, missing,
Parts of History.
You're pain is valid,
But so is mine.

You were hurt,
But you blew off his side.

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..