Rude Awakening

Lying, resting, thinking of you
Listening to the men's deep snores
Pondering of whom the dream

Of wives and girls back home
Dress in their Sunday best
Quietly thinking of them
As they stroll to church

To be stuck on a ship with
Only a picture of you
Is almost as horrible as waiting for news
Of the decisions of men higher than we
Deciding our fate without knowing our name

And without warning I heard the sounds
Light and warmth that seems as if the
Sun it self had broken through cold steal walls
Jared from my bed I lay in both cool and warmth

Looking upon my hands, water and blood
Thoughts of you race around my head
As the first screeching signal bellows
Outside the walls of our cold tomb
Water is rising quickly, higher, overwhelming injured

I pull out hte picture of you in Sunday best
Kissing in one last time I whisper my love for you
Sinking, I feel you slip away, into darknesses