I was conscripted,
Forced into these daylight trenches,
By a dice roll,
Snake eyes,
Fighting tooth and nail every year,
Ill-equipped,
Each turn of the sun another foe beaten,
Another hill won with blood,
My standard grows ever more grey,
A tired old veteran in the works,
And once the war is finally over,
I shall take the skeletal hand of the dark,
Like an old comrade,
And finally rest in calm halls.

Comments
  1. Great poem. Wonderful images of the stages of life as they are in the plain and raw. Great artwork! Nicely penned piece.πŸ™

  2. Carol anne says:

    Brilliant! Very nicely done! ❀

  3. DJ RMX says:

    Awesome. I read the poem and kept thinking of a quote from one of those Hollywood war movies, β€œI love the smell of napalm in the morning.”

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