From war to war torn
The countryside lay
Another boy worn
From the front lines
His head molded grass
Cold from the day
And that gray pass
Where many men die
His fathers sound
Thrown from rampart
Flung to the ground
By gunpowder
"Father how could you?"
The lame echo
Fell in lieu to
Another shot
Yet across the sea
Past no mans land
A body left be
By loving hands
Hole in an old head
Red mixed with green
A piece of lead
Found its owner
The boys weakened flame
Died by old hands
Gripping the same
Righteous, gray gun
That gun is buried
Beside that man
The last bullet
Killed the killer
Yet where is the blame?
On one or both?
They died the same
With fatherly love
Basically I had this idea from the really disgusting concept of when in a very desperate situation like slavery, or threats from a group that is sure to **** an entire family, some fathers will feel the need to **** their family, by their own hands, rather than let them die by others. In this theory his family would not have to suffer. Which makes sense but is a grotesque idea to entertain.
This poem is about a boy who was shot by his father. They were both opposing each other and were soldiers of separate armies. The father shot his son because already he could see he was suffering and his father knew it would only get worse, so he shot him to end his suffering. However, he could not deal with the guilt of his action, so he ended up shooting himself as well. I liked writing this, and i hope you guys enjoy it.
P.S: For really crazy people read each last line in each stanza and put them together for a mini poem