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This is a poem I wrote for my history class as a project. Explaining poetry just ruins the whole point of it being poetry, just intrepret as you will. It's a letter from a soldier, that's all I'll give you :)


Submitted:Jul 9, 2010    Reads: 63    Comments: 3    Likes: 2   


Dear Mary,

Writing to you from this soulless place
A desert for those of faith,
Shades of grey blending together
Oh and I can't see your face.
Good faith, good God help me now,
Are they all the same?
We didn't come to die
Families backing up the lane,
Reaching out and taking claim
And boys and men was all we were
But blank faces give me cold stares
And I don't remember,
I can't remember,
Were you ever really there?
And back when we were young,
It was all a game,
And we all fell down
But we all got back up,
Don't we now?
It's been seven days
Since I saw the dead men rise
Looking at me with empty eyes
They've all come for goodbyes
But no one remembers names,
Mark me with nothing,
It's no longer a game.

We don't get up when we fall down,
We just fall deeper,
Down, down, down.
And the ground no longer
Cradles laughter, only pain
Mary dearest, heed my warning,
It's no longer a game.
- October 16th, 2008




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