Valhalla's waiting room

[billy]

Our story should not be crushed,
one to be told, booming in great halls
with dripping goblets and roaring fires,
boar's legs, pig's heads and laughter.
Not lost to papers, shuffled on table tops
picked at by who, has what, and not.

Our village smashed, hammer and axe,
babies wrapped and crying passed,
my chest slashed with rugged blade,
anger stayed but at what cost?
I bathe with floating candles,
pennies swapped for pound coins
on eyes that wont open;
without you.

i've read a version of this before, i'm sure.

this reads much better. the theme and extended metaphor make it much stronger. the conflict is evident as is the aftermath. the death is a metaphorical one, i like it.