I know a word;
A six letter word.
Yet,
if you take one away,
twelve is what remains.
Ten lay on the field,
dressed in moonlight,
black as midnight.
My fists clenched tight,
Till redness bleeds.
Three times with all our might.
Two figures up,
sign for peace,
no mercy,
the fight will cease tomorrow.
One
lays down flat;
suffers defeat.
Dozens of my friends died.
all ten of my family members dressed in death.
Over the lines once, twice, three times.
They sign for peace
As
I
Die.
YOU ARE READING
collection of poems
PoesiaThis started with a fly poem i made in my English class as a joke, but now contains all the poems i never got to use or do anything with. i may do something later on in life but for now, enjoy.
