The Soldier Boy
These are the dead lands,
In marshy waters I do walk,
Where the dead lie below us,
And living ought not to want,
These marshes they are grotesque,
Flowing with blood and rot,
And my hands are covered In the stuff,
Although I wish theyd not.
I recall it but a dream to me,
Search amongst the bloody sea,
Hoping there my family would be,
But alas they've burned on the wooden tree.
Now I've spotted another floor,
Once dirt now turned into red blood rust,
Saturating the sands of time,
Unable to contain,
The raging men left behind.
The sky it's grey in this hour,
Although the sun does shine,
as it may,
Mine eyes cannot penetrate beauty,
Only death carries me.