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The Soldier

Date Written: September 17, 2017

Machines of air looking down on us
The beasts of dust as we grapple heel and hand
Mud and sand, blood red oil
The chaff of harvest
Converted to currencies of wealthy means
Stepping stones cut from our perforated bones
Riches are reaped beside our bodies sown just to be thrown back again
And forgotten if we stumble in
Laid inside a homeless nest
Stuck with eager dirty needles
Shipped to an early steeple where boxes close
Descend with grace as you defend yourself –
Both charitable and chaste
Praise me for my valor, lay me on a crimson tower
Justify my endless terror as my "finest hour"
Treat me as a token to deceive the child
Whom we fatten for this scapegoat slaughter

I learned to fight; I learned to kill;
I learned to steal; I learned that none of this is real
None of this is real
None of this is real
None of this is real

But there’s a war inside my head

Beleaguered by my breathing – choking, screaming, heaving
Time drags me back to the desert

This is war

A child stumbles from the wreckage holding his salvation
The trigger to cessation – to end us all
I took a life that takes mine
Every quiet moment we collapse​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Have you forsaken us?
All the darkness comes alive.
Take my hand and drag me to the void


One comment on “The Soldier”

  1. JosephJohnF     September 19, 2017

    i like the second stanza

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