The Worst of Man
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I have no thought on which or why
Or how the breaking stanchions lie
A dearest ear pressed to the earth
To hear those crying pains of birth
Proud, horrid hearts of lesser men
That bleed with anguish once again
Thus, bitter poisons dearly bought
Will end a war of anguish, wrought
And honed, the blade will ever find
A vein to weep and ease the mind
The puddled red that pools on tile
Cold, frozen on that face, a smile
Left for each blind soldier's hopes
To e'er assuage a reaper's tropes
The torture that a death can save
A stone to mark that lonely grave
There is no cause of worthy blame
And only time ... to wipe the name
Man's worst for man, in utter shame.
Written and submitted on May 14, 2020
For the "Brian's Choice D, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest
Brian Strand, Sponsor.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2020
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