Treasure Island

Walter C. Edwards


Crimsons Skies


Crimsons skies backing cries,
Of broken summers pain,
Once again called to march,
On baron brunt out plains,
Thrust the steel horse,
At the enemy forward march,
Oil smoke pitch I wish to vomit,
Gasp as I choke blood stained,
Corpses lay to high under toe,
If I am the last victim,
Please do not make it so.

Submitted: Sunday, April 07, 2013
Edited: Thursday, October 10, 2013
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