Creativity, Complexity, Chance and Chaos

Eliza

_Eliza_

(A/N: A poem about World War Two.)

Fierce waves crash against the boat,

Making my nerves go crazy.

I can see land in the distance.

And people on it.

I clutch my locket to my chest.

Think of Eliza.

Think of Eliza.

Everything will work out.

We're going to make it out alive.

The boat nears the shore,

And we all jump out,

Wading through the water.

I watch the men with guns

Hiding in the trees.

Think of Eliza.

Think of Eliza.

Everything will work out.

We're going to make it out alive.

I hear a gunshot

And then some more.

I fire into the bushes.

Men around me

Fall down dead.

Think of Eliza.

Think of Eliza.

Everything will work out.

We're going to make it out alive.

Bullets ricochet off the trees,

Hitting men at random.

Screams echo off the ground.

Suddenly, I collapse,

Feeling nothing but pain.

Think of Eliza.

Think of Eliza.

Everything will work out.

We're going to make it out alive.

Men smother my chest

With bandages,

But the bleeding does not cease.

And I know already.

All is lost for me.

Think of Eliza.

Think of Eliza.

Everything will work out.

For her, at least.