August 6, 2011
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A pocket watch ticks; tocks
Letting time slowly wither by
Hands grow wrinkled,
As they clutch the watch,
Remembering the past
And the horrors flash back
For a thousand miles we marched
Lugging our pride and desire for freedom
Hate pours down upon the battlefield
Life is slipping steadily through the reins
Slicing the air, like ice
Coursing through ones veins
The world is silent
Sound explodes with one click
All around fiery mass takes victims
Leaving them to suffer barely alive
Landmines are secretly planted
A message to the enemy
In the dead of winter
A million go,
Dying off, buried in the wintry snow
Gunpowder covers their face
And masks in their wounds
I wondered if I could talk to them again
To know how death really feels
So I could leave this place
And not fight for something we don’t have
And not die for the ungrateful
It’s too late for that
They have passed to a new life
But their mutilated body remains
Just a reminder to us unmercifully left behind
I hold the old pocket watch in my hands
As I remember the day I got it
The day we surrendered
I took it from my brother
A forgotten soldier, his face unrecognizable
As he lie dead in the blood-stained snow

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