And I long to see the ashes burning in the ground,
long to hear the silent deafeaning sound,
long to smell the foul corpses mound,
long to taste the sinned-blood scars never found.
To feel the pleasure giving pain,
to destroy me completely,
a bullet to keep me sane,
death said to be nasty.
And shot me I hear again,
I see myself ashes rend,
I smell corpses cannot pretend,
and here I found the scars cannot mend.
HI! A short poem for you guys!!
