Lost Poem by Bethan Ackerley
Lost
Got no faith,
Got no soul,
Marches on,
Through bullets and bombs,
Robotic limbs,
Blood stains his clothing deep and viscous red,
Falls slowly to the ground,
Dead behind the eyes,
Screams for his mother,
Prays to God,
Prays for the end,
Shakes,
Dies,
Eyes lit by explosions they cannot see,
And all is quiet,
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
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4/25/2024 5:06:56 AM # 1.0.0.1119
