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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required On scribbled parchment, sanguine letters writ in blood Of hidden tales, broken pages smeared with mud An unknown soldier, his blood he lie With glint of sword, his death is nigh A scar on the body, an ache in the heart Blades in the dark, cut his chest apart In his sorrow, with his dying breath He called to his dearest Elizabeth For never again would he see her face ‘Twould be here he died, this abysmal place The war had begun, some fifty years hence This soldier unknown fought for a sixpence His gentle soul ripped by the horrible conflict That artists of the gilded age could never quite depict On the field of valor, were armies a’massing ‘Twas nought but bodies as sign of their passing The head of the line led a cavalry charge As arrows shot past, betwixt shield and targe With iron-forged pikes upwardly thrust To satisfy the wicked Gods’ bloodlust Cries in anguish rang out cold as steel Sheering flesh from bone, with fanatic zeal With each death, came a tear fell from Heaven The forgotten soldier, unidentified number eleven Which side won the battle could not be told Such death and carnage, history alone could be so cold Through passage of time and the set of the sun Came the dawn of a new age, the era of the gun A weapon of such power that no armor can shield That strikes such fear that the courageous yield Could the forgotten soldier have known this to pass How could he foresee land mines and poison gas This is what we make of the cause he died for To repeat the same mistakes, to continue his war With a whimper or a scream, how does Humanity end An unjust war on the horizon, on you it will depend...
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