Gluttony

April 19, 2008
By
Smothered in smoke,
Armies lie close to hell,
Swollen feet leaning
On piles of dead bodies.
Bombs slaughter silence;
Soldiers storm into action.
Screams poison thick air:
Souls shudder as Death
Picks up his silverware.

Men swarm the battlefield,
Fall on his dinner plate.
For my country, they cry
Over blasting machine guns.
Mother Earth weeps, groans,
Pleads for a taste of mercy;
But not a morsel remains
Because Death devours
With an insatiable appetite.





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