A Mercenary
The soil as his witness, walking on footpaths
Self-laid, the soul a renegade
No ownerships of the reckless heart
Except for an illusory god, hung by a thread
The soul pacifier in this no man's land
Walking in alleyways and backstreets
In cocaine country, pushed by the palms of fate
To a frontier, where destiny is snorted up the nostrils
To soar to the heights of Seraphim, towering above the heavens
A shrouded mission of a lone warrior, a man of many masks
Blending in to the theatrics of the narcotic kings
As humanity is razed for their daily wages
Where powders reign, deceptively virgin in hue
On table tops and within hollow chambers of ungainly barrels
As law men fall like the Amazonian rainforests
Logs of human flesh covered in sanguine coats
Floating on to river banks and beds
Yet he thrives in this bloodshed landscape
A chameleon in thespian action, fusing in to the bleakest of backdrops
Even snorting bliss, as anointment, an investiture to a ominous practice
For a resonating fraternity within a prospering cartel
Waiting for kismet to lend in a gentle push, for the final chapter
To spell the doomsday for a thriving trade
A crusader with a heart of a lion and the loyalty of a templar
Sketching the Armageddon of powder's hold
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
Added by Poetry Lover
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