The Wishful Soldier

January 21, 2018
By bibliophile221 BRONZE, Glenville, New York
bibliophile221 BRONZE, Glenville, New York
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Pray tell, what I'd hear if I could listen
To my heart which beats slow and ever-cold
What I'd pay to see what stars did glisten
While was away from home with mind so bold
To think to fight wars not made for dreamers
Was rash indeed of such a child like me
To hear what can't be unheard, those screamers
Who I tried desperately not to be
Yet here I am and buried under ground
Nothing can be the thing that breathing beats
Though my body remains here to be found
Bring me hope and tell me of my brave feats
Oh how I wish that my eyes could see stars
Instead blackness gifted to me by wars.

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