Looking Through Stained Glass

...as the...


Two soldiers grieve after learning one of their brother at arms has fallen.
Photo Credit: Kai Pfaffenbach for Reuters

  ...As the anger coursing through my veins

As I look across this beach foreign to me
As my guns carve the limit of my restraint’s lack
As I seize the day for another’s sovereignty
As my brothers at arms fight at my sides and back

...As the hunger crawling over my sin

When I think of the shade of certain someone’s hair
When I think prose of its owner quite a distances flight
When I think once again how life’s a tutor of the unfair
When I try not to think of her cream smooth skin that night

...As the crier of my resolution’s wane

On this sand far from my home's grassy hills
On this life bewildered by what’s come to past
On this soil dyed crimson with this war’s kills
On this day bullets destined to be my last

...As the last prayer given beneath my skin

For the medic who sighs at what he sees
For the home I go to, just not where I used to play
For the glass like calm that washes over me
For the final trip now only two closed eyes away

...White... as the anger coursing through my veins

...White... as the hunger crawling over my sin

...White... as the crier of my resolution’s wane

...White... as the last prayer given beneath my skin


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