The Death of the First Man

November 2, 2010
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I watch over him
He looks so peaceful

His body feels cold and empty
He smell of death sticks to the air,
Thick with bitter sorrow

His last gasps come slowly
In… Out… In… Out… In

Fighting that which he cannot see

I remember how he went out,
noble and great he went
His last words told me

“Fight to the death, young Patriot!
Protect your sword and shield
Honor those who have fallen for you!”

So he went down in victory
and I marched out to avenge him
But the breath was becoming weaker

Until he was no longer

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