Scarlet liquid and saltwater
Lace my ever growing boundaries.
Patches of dirt,
Splatter along my surface.
My every inch is covered with dead weight,
Groaning and screaming out their last words,
Before they get sent beneath me.
A broken man,
Once a soldier.
Kneels down on my filthy face and sobs,
Slowly giving into the realization of what the future holds.
Ripping my hair from the roots,
The smoke from cigars and gunpowder
forms a fist around his throat.
So painful it’s as if it were his best friend’s
Burning body creating the stench,
Ripping out his now black heart.
He knows that he won’t make it through the days,
He knows that the last thing he will hear
Is not his childhood friend telling him he loves him,
Instead the cold, cruel BANG from his enemies weapon,
That looks identical to his own.
He knows that the last thing he will see
Is not the little piece of heaven in the bright painted room next to his,
Instead another piece of the hell that he is in
And as he clutches the hole that has been gashed in his body
He doesn’t feel the pain that is supposed to be there,
Memories flood his bleeding mind,
Once the darkness overwhelms him
His last breath catches in his throat,
His thoughts don’t turn to his regrets,
Or his mistakes,
What he could have done,
Instead of what he did,
They go to the right he has done in his short lived life
Once a soldier,
Now added to the dead weight,
Who will be sent six feet below me,
Whose veins once held his life,
Will now hold nothing but the insects that feast off those men
That were once soldiers