Broken Men
We are Broken Men
Our heads are full of
Red glaring rockets
Shell shattered buddies
Blood gulped by the thirsty ground
Screaming wounded
The crying dying frightened friends
Faces twisted in ending agony
Their pocketed dog tags
clicking against extra ammo
muzzle flashes
then the telescopic sight
of an enemy head exploding
the lingering smell of flesh
eaten in ovens
donkey carts piled high with shrunken bodies
bayoneted babies
tearful mothers with shrunken breast
inside us forever
we do not share.
We are the Broken Men
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