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the end

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It's near the hour of our death

patient. until our final rest

draw near another test:

which best the undead or the unrest?

We march at morning light

we guard by day delight

we lite the skies at night

we mark our targets bright

whisper, "we have them in our sights."

seconds past – or minutes last

our trigger fingers collapse

and ignite the sparks inside

we write with tracers right

"now left! they're coming from the forest nest!"

they come to steal whats left

they thirst to feast upon the flesh

they thrive, were out of breath

sweaty broth of bloody tears beading off our skin

boiling from our hearts within, hatred come again

our ammo's low

our lantern's thin

our morale is wearing slim

"they're in, they tripped the wire," someone fired from defense

last frag I pluck the pin and flip the spoon


our fears and frights amend

our sins we do condemn

we wither grim with silent grins until we reach THE END.

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I love it. Very vivid.

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