Men go in by thousands,
But only hundreds leave.
Never quite sure who's the victor
Or if you'll be next to grieve.
Fathers and sons walk onto the field,
Immersed in the smoke of fire,
Just to kill friends and brothers,
Until they themselves expire.
Endless towers of bodies,
Carelessly flung into graves,
As gunshots illuminate the fight,
And the immortalized flag waves.
"'Tis a rich man's war," they say,
but it's a poor man's fight.
Who would let their fellow men,
Die for their own right?
As the smoke begins to settle,
And the smell of gunpowder's gone,
Who will still be left alive,
When night turns into dawn?
Author notes
Written May 25th, 2004
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Congrats for winning Gold Medal in my contest!
Keep writing!
manoj -
This is very well written. I like this, the detail, the courage to write it. Great job. Good luck to you. Patricia
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Who will still be left alive
When night turns into dawn?
Well, when I volunteered and served it was always my hope that it would be my children and family.
War is ugly, but unfortunately sometimes it is necessary. Sometimes there really are bad guys that have to be stopped. When there is, somebody has to stop them.
Good write my friend. -
Wow Heather... why don't you put this stuff up on your LJ! You should let people see how talented you are.
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