This was originally a poem I wrote based on my Uncle’s experiences.
Listen to those trumpets sing,
what their calls to arm can bring.
This is where I stood my ground,
tell them lost & never found.
They took my soul in ebon night;
frozen now, free from blight.
Hollow men, cracked and dry,
why can’t they all just let me die?
They took my heart, made me a liar.
Dead men all, getting high on fire.
I am death made manifest.
Reborn hard, made more & less.
Twisted my life,
threw me away.
Stole my blood,
boiled it today.
Medals can’t help me dig.
I am buried alive.