my dearest soldier, my heart left to rot
fire your gun without the slightest of thought
give all of your blood, if only to appease
my poor soldier’s greatest fear is for peace
for under the milky, unjudging moon
men cloaked in red wait quietly soon
my soldier, my soldier, so eager for war
to serve and lay in the dirt floor
he is the bright glowing fire that flickers
strewn with tossed broken bottles and liquors
from when the good soldiers lose a ration
yet he is still a boy of spirit and passion
his eyes cloudy and his heart like winters
worked fingers coated with bloody splinters
just a boy with no one to tuck him into bed
for his father left and his mother’s half dead
men shot him then with vulgar words and threats
so he took his meager cash and made his bets
and he lost it all, stripped of his youth
so he hoisted up a bottle and forgot the truth
and one day he saw his ragged clothes and sickly skin
his hollow cheeks and frame so thin
a man so worthless, he said, should serve a cause
And slaughter his country’s enemy without a pause
my poor dearest soldier, a drunk who had met his descent
thought he could be more honorable with a bullet in his head
yet when he ceases, there will be no salvation
no escape from thirst, no escape from starvation
his body shall rust not weather
his good heart long ago severed
a civil war with no civility
when he ends, there is no nobility.