I lie here, blood pouring from my heart
Waiting for the time when I will depart.
I hear the Angels merrily chatting
And a machine gun's distant rattling.
The bullet lies in my wound
Poisoning what was once full of love
But as I lie here, there's no love for me
After all, I'm only a wounded soldier.
A soldier left to die
Without love
Without hate
Only a silent good-bye!
My uniform is dirty
Full of blood stains
That won't be washed-out again.
And as I finally sleep
I've failed my country
I'm a soldier dying
Whilst the heroes fight on!
-
Author:
Bibbeck (
Offline) - Published: August 24th, 2017 16:07
- Comment from author about the poem: My view (aged 20) of the damages of war - too many times a hero was someone who came back from war and not those left behind.
- Category: Sociopolitical
- Views: 48
Offline)
Comments4
Bibbeck, this is a beautiful ode to the fallen soldier. In my mind they are ALL heroes.
I think that if you spoke to the returning heros my friend you would hear stories of their heros who came home in bags with parts missing or who disappeared. Thats if you can find one who is willing to talk about it with someone who didnt go through it. Often you will hear a veteran say he wears a medal for his dead colleagues not himself. A respectful and deeply meaningful piece of writing my friend.
Very good write and tribute. As Fred has said ALL are heroes, those that send them to war are to be despised.
Great write!
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