A poem by One at War
A Series of LettersIf you are well in home
And many friends yours to be
Throw a party, have some fun
You know you are better off than me.
Take the day as a gift;
Know that your time is good.
Pray that you'll never be like me
Just safe and understood.
For I? I have nothing
But rude remarks
And cooing harks
Disgust which sparks
Company I never have, you enjoy.
Conversations I never have, you speak.
Food I never taste, you eat.
Aches and pains you never have, I reak.
Bruises on my self esteem
My soul lost to soulless beasts
Memories a pain to me
My mind where the devil feasts
Yet today is ruined by tomorrow
By knowing it will be no better
And today is marred by the past
Just as I, the constant fretter
I lie here now, locked in my mind
Eyes absently trailing across heaven's bliss
Surely, God above, in all the stars
There is a better place than this?
No mercy, no sheild nor love
For those with a heart
First pure as the dove,
Now shattered apart.
Eyes, obrazed by scenes of battle
Touch scorned by the dealing of death;
Ears ripped by scream and rattle
Life ends in one last stuttering breath
Open your eyes
See no light in the dark
Only wail of weapons to hark
The pain of such lies-
Yet in truth is my death
Not feared in my breath
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