#historicalpoetry
He marched believing right was near,
That justice stood beside his gun,
A soldier shaped by flags and words,
Convinced his cause was honour won.
Yet somewhere far from shattered fields,
Men gathered calmly, dressed in black,
Drawing borders, signing names,
While young men never journeyed back.
War did not rise from earth itself,
Nor from the stars or human blood,
It came from moments, choices made,
From pride that turned the world to mud.
And those who carried war’s great weight
Were often those with least to say,
Still haunted by decisions made
In rooms so very far away.
14h ago
Jun 3, 2026 at 5:42 AM UTC
They told us courage wore a smile,
With polished boots and steady hands,
But fear walked with us every mile
Across those broken, blood-soaked lands.
We nodded when the speeches came,
Though none could grasp what lay ahead,
For courage was not glory’s flame —
It lived beside the silent dread.
It trembled in a soldier’s breath,
In shaking hands that held the line,
In boys who marched toward certain death
Still believing they’d be fine.
A strange courage filled the air,
Not loud, not proud, not shining bright,
Just weary souls still standing there
Against the endless weight of night.
7d ago
May 27, 2026 at 7:45 AM UTC