War

Author: Tad Winslow

Kills Blood trickles In the fight Dead soldiers drift into the light-- Souls seep From punctured holes Life is put to sleep As each sense grows To six and on-- beyond what the living knows: The end Means that you extend forever Removed from your fleshly tether Tied apart Becoming a part Of another land Rising between Where sun beams Hit warm unearthly sand.

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