March On

April 24, 2014

The iron gate,
Twists its mangled corpse behind me,
Crying out as I drift away,
And the young dew
Touches my skin
With the cold of that spring morning,
With the cold of indifference,
The lingering respite
Hung tensely behind me
As I strode out into that spring morning,
Eyes fixated upon the glowing horizon
Beyond what I could not see,
And your cries echoed past me,
Through me,
Yet still I marched on.
The towering halls
Of our once lustful life
Watched me as I went,
Shudders reaching out to appeal
And windows staring in disbelief,
Hopeless in my departure,
Hopelessly begging me to stay,
The doorway still creaked
From when you told me to make it stop,
Creaking again and again
Against the wind
Waving goodbye,
Yet still I marched on.
Comrades surround me
All dressed the same
With those patterns to help you hide,
Yelling is beating both of my ears
And my muddled feet hit the ground,
Body is flailing against the rough wind
And my limbs cannot move
With the fray,
Air is pumping my lungs
And my eyes blot the rain,
Yet still I marched on.
The dirt was breaking
Softly under my shuffling feet
As I hid from explosions
Lighting the night sky,
And I felt the sweat
Burning under my uniform,
As the bombs continued
To bloom all around me,
And my comrades shouted
Voicelessly towards me,
With their empty eyes
And their empty clips,
Pointing at things all around,
While guns went off somewhere
Behind my decaying cover,
And as I gripped my gun
Coated with grime and loss,
Sweating with fear and regret,
I stopped marching.

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