Blood and Gore
A poem from a soldier, about war.
I'm cold, alone and surrounded by death. All this blood and gore, is rising to my head.
I try to smile, act like I'll be fine. Even though I know, with peace, I'll never resign.
Every night, as I look towards the sky. I can't help but yell, "Why, God, why!?"
I'm not religious, rarely even pray. But every soldier is a bit, it's how we stay okay.
Okay in the head, and okay in the mind. I wonder, will it be heaven or hell, I find?
There are people all around me, some I've known for years. We smile, we laugh, and share each others tears.
But at the same time, we're strangers and apart. What we've all seen, has destroyed our inner heart.
Our innocence now gone, corrupted and defiled. This life we lead is hard, cold and wild.
The ones who trained us, prepared us for war. They told us we're the best, that order we'd restore.
They did their job well, we've been perfectly made. Perfect for our job, to kill, invade and crusade.
In war there are no victors, many they have said. I think I might agree, for both sides suffer death.