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today is my youngest son's birthday… ryan you were almost going to experience the horror of war. so i wrote this poem so you could 'see' what you missed.

a soldier's lament

in war the dead are handsome
the living are grotesque
the dying view angels through shielded eyes
the wonderment of excellent joy.

why pity the living in their nightmare lives
are they not free to choose the means of their demise?
what? are they frozen in their lies
of religions and countries and honor and glory
and fame and the whole festering pile of corpsed words.

their own eyes eaten with envy
their own hearts curdled with greed
their own minds pestered by jealousy
all soldiers lament the stinking field
of cold blood and scorched skin.
and the handsome dead.

"now that i know, i'm sorry.
i meant to gain strength by killing 'the enemy'
and all i have is regret
and the fear of god and utter confusion."

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