(i wrote this poem when i was 14 years old, i thought about it upon waking up one morning)
daddy went out into the field
and didn't come back alive
the other soldiers didn't yield
otherwise he might've survived
he lay there face down in a field with red grass
his uniform caked with mud
amazing he didn't drown right then and there
in a sea of his own life's blood
he lay there dying
as blood poured out of his open wounds
he felt nothing but pain
he knew it would all be over quite soon
he felt it happening
his bodily functions were slowing down
nothing to feel but numbing
nothing to hear but reverberating gunshot sounds
soon death over took him
with no contemplation
soon the blood stopped flowing
and began the process of coagulation
to some life is game
when it's your time to go
death disguises himself and closes your eyes
now let me ask you this
when you win, is death the final grand prize?
there is no heaven or hell at all'
when you standing on the edge
step back, before you take your fall
now he won't awaken in hell awaiting to be burned
nor will he awaken in heaven's armchair by the fiery hearth
for when he died his soul died with him
now he is buried six feet under on this mortally damned earth
