Odysseus and Troy

So many nights,
Sleepless nights,
The dark bags under his eyes got worse every day,
Yet kept up every night to do as he may,

His dark hair went from smooth to rough,
But the smell of his odor was really enough,
Dealing with years of war, battles, losses,
By his experience alone he was one of the bosses.

The man was Odysseus,
His dark eyes once vitreous,
His copper armor dull and bent,
A gleaming sword to accent.

The War of Troy was not yet done,
These events being one to stun,
The musty air of the coast,
Everyone is as pale as a ghost.

Dragged from his home,
The place of Rome,
To fight in this war,
Like never before.

Suddenly, there is work to be completed,
Soldiers stand, up and not defeated,
By the purpose that they came,
They want to bring their homeland no shame.

So the man points and shouts,
Just enough to have no doubts,
That the plan will work, he says,
If not, there are other ways.

My fingers, calloused, skin bruised,
But all that washed away as the wood was used,
Standing up, right in front of our face,
Something amazing in that place.

A horse, a large one indeed,
The wood we used created a steed,
With wheels for legs and eyes as empty holes,
The sight really brought up our souls.

We loaded in, one at a time,
Our silent feet making a quiet chime,
As we rode up to the city walls,
We sat there like porcelain dolls.

But finally, as we entered the city,
We all lacked the sense of pity,
When we slinked out of the horse like black cats,
Having the night as ours like lone bats.

Then, what everyone chimed to,
The beat of one, two, one, two, one, two,
When we heard that battle cry,
Screamed into the night sky.