Through Soldiers' Eyes
So tense am I
The falling sky
Holding my breath
Until the Death
It’s my life
So turn the scythe
Break the bread
And stop the Lead
Loud is it
The latest cry
But all the time
Red is the Dye
A placid face
Of Death’s clean lace
The slow coming of
A century’s Race
Copyright © Dustin Bennefield | Year Posted 2006
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