The Lost Ones

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: War and Military  |  House: Booksie Classic
Jul 28, 1914 – Nov 11, 1918 The Great War

Submitted: January 31, 2017

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Submitted: January 31, 2017

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Oh Brother of mine, from across this brown field

Past countless craters and barbed wire fences

Wearing rags covered in filth, and boots soaked from mud

Do you also clutch this rifle I wield?

 

This silent landscape stretches to the horizon without a change

broken by gunshots, followed by screams

Our friends left the homeland to songs of glory

Only to live in holes in the scarred ground

 

Can you too, see the ghosts of my kind?

They linger in the fog, in the chill of nighttime

Pale shapes in the moonlight, that reach out to say

Run away foolish boy, run away

 

The Machines of War have come to rule us all

For how can man compare to the cold harshness of steel

We are watched from on high, we are watched from afar

We are mowed down like wheat, swept aside by the plow

 

That leaves only us, oh Brother of mine

Two halves to a whole, where one must die

Amber clouds of gas, roll like mountains toward the shore

Once more we go over, so does the Sergeant roar


© Copyright 2019 Jacob Harroway. All rights reserved.

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