A soldier smiles, his neck in a noose
and even complains it is slightly too loose
He waits for death, the infinite reward
the Roman hero that falls on his sword
It begins to squeeze words from his throat
the opposing soldiers mirror him and gloat
The vanishing honour of another martyr
to heaven's battleground, to explore and charter
It is expiring the innocence and corrupting belief
they line the streets with misdirected grief
Some look away, and then tearful eruption
not for fallen soldier, for risen corruption
Flags fly high and waver in the wind
forgive them Lord, they know not they have sinned
© Copyright 2010 DexterCohen (UN: nelliott12 at Writing.Com).
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