Stained Poem by Jade Harmony
Stained
I feel the deaths
Of a thousand men
I feel my own end-
But I am not afraid.
My hands are stained
I am a disgace.
Outcasted and exiled-
But I am not angry.
I feel my gun
Hot in my hands
Shooting it's death metal
But I am not happy.
There is no god-
For if there was
I will die
But I am alive.
I don't feel the pain
I don't feel the heatache
I am the perfect soldier
I am a weapon
But I am alone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 4:07:38 AM # 1.0.0.1119
