Whirling of blades, clouds of dust
Screaming, suffering, litters of men
Crimson covered deck
Water of red flushing
Rinsing away the horrors of man
His uniform is ***** and wreaks
Dirt that isn’t dirt
He stumbles into the showers
Dazed in a trance, shock
Dropping his rifle, pistol falling to the ground
Standing under the cold rain
Dust and dirt, wash away
Water of crimson
Mud that isn’t mud
Guilt so heavy, he cannot breathe
Death all around him,
Yet he lives Why?
Brothers and sisters, gone
Yet he remains, why?
Guilt overwhelming
Pain, searing pain.
Yet he lives.
Unworthy, full of guilt
Crumped in the shower
Unworthy
He weeps for the fallen