Fallen

March 25, 2011
By Anonymous

The sick
the wounded
the dead.

Every hour,
a stiff silent body
is replaced
with one that is bleeding, screaming.

There are so many hurt, dying
but not enough of us to go around
I have not slept in over 36 hours
But they need me.

I wrap a bandage around a soldiers arm,
as I desperately try to stay awake.
I stitch up a bullet wound
holding my breath
to rid the smell of infection.

Plaster casts,
needles,
gauze
aren’t enough to save them
but they have to be enough.


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