Walking On A Battlefield

I walk across a battlefield hearing the treacherous cries of people.
I hear bullets shooting out of treacherous guns.
I feel the souls of the injured who have died.
I stare death straight in peoples eyes.
I just keep walking not stopping to look at anything.
I taste the smoke from all the fires.
I touch a bullet on the ground and put it in my pocket.
I feel the heat from the bullet burning my legs from the gunpowder.
I walk some more then I stop ‘cause something had caught my eye.
I stare at a tombstone and I wipe the dust off of it.
My jaw flies open ‘cause this was the tombstone of George Washington.
I take the bullet and some glue out of my pocket and glue the bullet to the tombstone.
Then I realize, I had just walked on a Battlefield.





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