July 26, 2011
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Men will march,
and men will die.
Trumpets blare,
and women cry.

The sight of battle,
the smell of blood.
The sound of dying,
the taste of mud.

Yelled commands,
and shouted orders.
They all fight,
for petty borders.

Screaming horses,
groaning men.
Clashing metal,
death of kin.

Food that rots,
water that dries.
The sound of battle,
the men that die.

And yet in time,
forget they will.
a week, a year,
again they kill.

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This article has 8 comments. Post your own now!

Im--NOT--Rayyn said...
Nov. 22, 2011 at 4:50 pm
I agree with this poem. Though some may say it's offencive, I say it's true. It took me a bit to get the last stanza, but I understand now.
musicispassion said...
Aug. 12, 2011 at 11:13 pm
beautiful poem and very true congrats on winning my contest sorry it took so long to get back to u love the poem
blitsnik replied...
Aug. 13, 2011 at 7:54 am
Thanks, and i won?
musicispassion replied...
Aug. 13, 2011 at 3:08 pm
ya u did first place m:P
blitsnik replied...
Aug. 13, 2011 at 7:28 pm

ol awesome....but what poem did i enter for your contest? i entered a few contests and cant remember...


musicispassion replied...
Aug. 13, 2011 at 9:04 pm
u entered my possesed stuffed animal short story contest
blitsnik replied...
Aug. 14, 2011 at 3:46 pm
OOOH!!! lmao i remeber that one. Thats cool though, thanks.
musicispassion replied...
Aug. 15, 2011 at 1:07 am
haha no prob
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