Six feathers in the blood

Six soldiers
Leave their feathers
In the blood

No tears
The private service
Sheds

No man bears more
With his eyes
Than him

That one
Who leaves his feather last

With mud streaked
Across his blood camouflage
He is the only one who knows

He will be the only of the six
Who grows

As he pulls his gun
To fire the salute
He turns

Tear clots his eye
And he fires,
His five comrades
Die

And as he turns to leave
To live broken
Beaten
Life

The gun of secret number seven
Fires

Twice.

And none are left.
Just six feathers

In the blood.