Men of war must at some point deal with what they have done in the name of survival. |
-Unlucky Ones- by Keaton Foster Here War Everywhere Death Dismemberment Unlucky ones Psychologically spent We signed up Volunteered Whores of action Training for combat Never sure We’d see it But we did And Here we are Brothers in arms Boys made into men Killing in the name Of all that we wish For those not so brave For those unwilling To do as much For themselves I’ve done things Such horrible things I’ve slaughtered men More than I know The enemy As they are called Unlucky ones It’s us or them And in most cases so far It’s been mostly them Some of my friends Just a few too many Of my brethren Have been killed Here Within this madness They don’t call it murder But rather Casualties of war Acts of attrition After each battle An unspoken truths Is easily abided Those deceased Those killed in action Are gathered up Sorted out Draped in a flags Stuffed in a boxes And shipped home Back to their families Back to everything That they gave up To come here Half away across This big blue marble To destroy the enemy Of our ways and kind The good book states Thou shalt not kill But in this place The good book Quickly becomes absurd After all How can we be expected Not to kill In such A target rich environment Unlucky ones Both those who die And those who survive We will all be changed By what we’ve done here At some distant point We will have to answer We will have to meet The equal creator of us all What will we say Will we confess to him That what we did Was a matter of survival A matter of us or them Will he come to understand Or will he point to his words The ones made so absurd The ones not heard In the fight between The enemies of all human kind Will he forgive us Is such a thing possible… Unlucky Ones Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2014. |