When tears hit the dirt

November 25, 2011
By Denise_G BRONZE, Chambersburg, Pennsylvania
Denise_G BRONZE, Chambersburg, Pennsylvania
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

They march down a dirt road,
carrying a rifle on their shoulders.
An American flag raised high,
waving above all the soldiers.

Can't they hear the cries?
Don't they feel any guilt?
They stroll with no shame
of the chaos they have built.

Booms and bright lights,
the attack has begun.
The soldier puts in his bullets
and begins to ready his gun.
But, all of a sudden,
as he get's ready to fire,
he sees something hanging
from an old rusted wire.

Can't they hear the cries?
Don't they feel any guilt?
They stroll with no shame
of the chaos they have built.


He walks closer and closer,
a terrified look on his face.
Petrified, he freezes,
and sees an image that can never be erased.
It was a newborn,
bloody from it's head to it's toe.
The solider broke down and cried
Now the shame began to show.

So he took his gun
and held it to his own head
"I lived blind for America to long"
was the last words he had said.

Now they hear the cries,
only now they feel the guilt.
They finally see the chaos
that only they have built.


The author's comments:
I wrote this while listening to "The Ballad of Birmingham". It inspired me to write something to show what really goes on in the world, even if it is tragic.

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