The Third of May 1808 - Ali Schieber

—after Goya

I.

From two to hoards in just hours,

a plea for life forms a larger target. Wounded piles become fatal towers:

oh! What to buy at the corpse market.

Boiling blood draped across the town,

a fresh battleground left to wonder.

War is for the crowned

while instead the innocent suffer.

Even with ebony ink strewn across the night

the terror is caught by the lantern’s light.

II.

I am now forced to sob the melody of fate forever

because of your callous actions.

My screams of angst forever sever

any possible love or satisfaction.

You patiently wait for an encore

for sending me from my home to hell.

For there are no true heroes of war

only a past in which to dwell.

If dignity is written by the winners

then

God

loves

the

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Hi, I’m Ali (she/her), a high school senior from San Bruno, CA. I greatly enjoy writing poetry, especially freeform, and have been writing poetry for over a year. In my free time, I love playing the guitar, creating graphic art, and hiking.