The Untainted Killer

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This poem is about the psychological horror and remembered torment of the battlefield. It decribes how the war was sprung upon them and the Earth seemed a dead place with no feeling. The witness knows that the true terror of the war will not end until those who remember those days, the death and the fear, won't remember anymore.

Submitted: February 03, 2012

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Submitted: February 03, 2012



Footsteps creep in from the woven

Path my life has taken.

It was too quick, too sudden to understand,

How each turn of the body

Created this rot in the ground.


The ground, which has it’s fading

Memory of liquids embracing the soil,

Like energy seeping through the body,

Can only cry wooden tears.

Tainted tears of the innocent.


For those who are reminders

Of the old way,

They have been cut down with lightening strikes.

Bruised heroes shy away

As they drag their dusted feet over

The place with no name.


I take my time in my countdown

Heartbeats until the fall when

The horror will flee on the

Frail wing of the swallow,

Across the sunset sky.


So that then, the world will feel again

Like a place that cannot die.

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