The battlefield is a canvas
splats of red,
dead bodies,
weeping young warriors,
painted by the devil’s paint brush.
The battlefield is a garden
red roses,
blue British,
maroon mustard,
purple parapet,
the thorns of war.
The battlefield is a crib
the cloud of lead
like a blanket
that covers the soldier at night,
smothering him to death.
Guns, weapons,
innocent beauties
manipulated
and overworked
to do the devil’s deed
until they over heat
from despair and plead.
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 5:58 PM UTC
The battlefield is a canvas
splats of red,
dead bodies,
weeping young warriors,
painted by the devil’s paint brush.
The battlefield is a garden
red roses,
blue British,
maroon mustard,
purple parapet,
the thorns of war.
The battlefield is a crib
the cloud of lead
like a blanket
that covers the soldier at night,
smothering him to death.
Guns, weapons,
innocent beauties
manipulated
and overworked
to do the devil’s deed
until they over heat
from despair and plead.