The Soldier's Death
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I smell the coppery, sweet scent of blood,
a soldier lies dead, his face in the mud.
I mourn the soldier's death.
War is a putrid expanding abyss,
where finding food and water feels like bliss.
I mourn the soldier's death.
I fight a war I know cannot be won;
against all this carnage; I am but one.
I mourn the soldier's death.
God has forsaken and abandoned me;
He is absent, and ignoring my plea.
I mourn the soldier's death.
As a child soldier, my life's striped of fun,
afraid the killing will never be done.
I mourn the soldier's death.
My mind is numb; I cannot shed a tear;
there is nothing left within me but fear.
I mourn the soldier's death.
I wish I had wings to soar through the sky,
I'd leave in a heartbeat if I could fly.
I mourn the soldier's death.
My prospects look murky; nothing is clear;
I'll be lucky to live another year.
I mourn the soldier's death.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018
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