Death Is Still True
I have in history seen them in the field of war.
Painted green their bodies like grass.
Their faces had been killed in black like earth.
Heavy with steel of death on their shoulder blades.
Breathing in sorrowful gasp of unmeasurable pain.
Shame to the family whose man is involved.
Should they survive the war death is still true.
Either ways by envisioned Holocaust.
Either way soldiers die.
To them though the sun does not set the night is still true.
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