Down the road came a soldier
17, or maybe older
beneath his grimey uniform
his wounded body, tired and worn.
Furrowed brow, sunken eyes
beleaguered soul who pondered lies
that brought him here to shed his blood
amidst this agoney and blood.
His innocence lay scattered here
across these fields where freedom dear,
he'd purchased now with mortal sin
upon a politicians' whim.

:
Phelonius