Cloud of Smoke

Cloud of Smoke
Wafting away into space,
Seemless transitioning,
Only slightly opaque,
And yet that aroma is so unmistakable.
War's a bitch
Leaving her wake slapped.

Death rides a black mare,
The rider, a woman,
In her palm, a laughing skull.
Glowing in the dark,
And yet the wind blows out the candle,
Making the bitch rowdy again.

Like drums in a rock 'n roll band,
The bullets spearhead 
Another enemy attack.
No allies for the weak or strong;
One little sting is all it would take
To end it all.

"When all hope is pinned in the trenches,
All that remains is a cloud of smoke.
A witch's brew of mascabre and despair,
A concoction of futility of few men's ends
But for the prince of those pawns."