The field knows my name
I marched it to the drum
Gun at the ready
Humming my daughter's song.
No one warned me of the fire
Or of the whipping shock
Of blood and bone attired
By Assailant's ironed rock
Coursing my veins with lead
These knees did give way
And to my dismay
Midday came
And branded me where I lay.
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Realms
PoetryA collection of poetry of all the good and bad things. © All rights reserved.
