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.