13 01 2012

Found this while fixing a drawer in my table.  From 2003, and it must’ve been written during one of my nights at Cadets with my friend Athena.


As the soldier marches on the field,
the screams of terror grow.
Not a person does his gun yield.
How did we sink so low?
Piles of bodies lying everywhere,
puddles of ruby liquid on the ground.
No doctor to seek for care,
musical notes of pain is the only sound.
The rumbling of tanks on soil
as scary as an earthquake under my feet.
Everywhere I turn there is turmoil,
and there is barely anything to eat.



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