Every good soldier speaks stories through eyes
tarried and tattered through endless skies
of smoky haze and fretful days that threaten
to pull them down and through the mud
beneath their feet
Were this an ordinary soldier, he too
might drown in the debris flung before him
from a faceless enemy
but alas he carries with him a heart wrought
with many silks and finest golds
and through the turmoil and the lakes of bone
he perseveres
to see her face again
YOU ARE READING
Lines
RandomA mess of stuff that won't fit elsewhere. Some are pretty absurdist, no direct continuity unless stated (doubtful on that, these are meant to be one-off poems/stories). I like to explore different styles of writing in small works like this, so some...
