Pages of War

This written book, a war that cooked
recipes of blood and fear, bullets and gear
on burnt decrepit pages I lay my tale
an arrow engraved, every drop of blood that could not be saved
my soul burdened by distasteful apparition
hundreds of bullets dropped heads to the ground
hundreds of spears stuck heads to the mound
scars of grief cut chips away from my heart
to this day and all the rest
I rub ashes on this book
so I am not left alone to bare the pain
I cannot relieve the phantom that held me in petrified suspense
as time passes the phantom is more dense
if you have not lived my hell
if you have not stuck your face to the dirt so the king of death wouldn't see you
if you have not taken a life, your target a man with a loving family
no matter which team he plays on
if you have not watched a fellow soldier, a friend, die
you may never understand