The Musket Man Poem by Timothy Long

The bullet went through us all like a dow or cheese cartilage, the musket man gave guns to kill not slave, only to gain, the civil war in blood, his bullets will flood, through eye to bone, flags on graves b fold, I met him once in rush, his looks made the ladies blush, shoot me down he tried, one in the shoulder was fried, in revenge I shot him down where he died. Musket man killed many for the south, captured and down, he gave a smile instead of frown, saying these are my last words hear them now, throw your selves in the flames, know I fought for my home with no resent, I detested slavery but for my home you'd all die, all around all will vanish in the dirt, was it all worth? We breathed twice until cold, leaving the nearby men shocked I ordered a burial in to he as he deserved, the musket man did I know, a legend was all that remained, of the southerners tales treat pain, be criminal or friend, I to fell in the end, blood still rushing from the shoulder gushing I laid, pondering is it to late, bodies continued to here, a faint whistle was heard, blurry my sight became, is this real? Or Gods game, does the government feel shame, or are soldiers to blame? Clouded by judgement, empty goes the mind wearing thin, by the end, caring is gone, is this mu burial or a dream? The generals have requiems, the musket man lay, do I? I'm not afraid for this, are they? It doesn't last mumbling in a coherent sigh, blood dripping down, may I meet in Gettysburg Fay, the one I shot as he shot lying as I may, me jored on this day.