A New Poem

TheBartenderAllieKat — Mon, 09 Jul 2018 19:31:58 +0000

Broken, Beaten, and Afraid

Broken, beaten, and afraid
The only words that could be said

A man lay cold dead in the trench
Bloodsoaked pictures in his hands are clenched

He went into the world with hopes and dreams
At night all he did was weep and scream

He tried to find some inner peace
Now blood pools neath him like a puddle of grease

He started cheery and a right good friend
We never could forsee this end

On battlefields his comrades bled
Into his shattered mind the soldier fled

It really was a crying shame
When he'd ask for the bullet that bore his name

We thought he was just overtired
Until we heard his rifle fire

He said he had a broken heart
In reality he was falling apart

Upon a time he seemed quite proud
Now we stand near his corpse in one big crowd

One cruel day he went up and away the bullet for to seek
They say he blew his head away his blood made an awful streak

If only we had seen before the pain with which he wept
If only we were more aware when death upon him crept

He always said to us that one day he'd do the trick
We cast him off as crazy now with his blood the duckboard's slick

Broken, beaten, and afraid
The only words that could be said

He felt the price had to be paid and, in tragic silence now he lays

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A New Poem