“That’s me you see who’s doubled over,
in the mud and wrought with pain.
Trust me though this is unlike,
anything a one could feign.
“That’s me you see who’s doubled over,
in the mud and wrought with pain.
Trust me though this is unlike,
anything a one could feign.
My knuckles bear only bone,
protruding from my flesh.”
I’ve gerry rigged my internal orgs,
within my guts with mesh.
Bombs burn off and knock down trees,
and crush my only friends.
Still I crawl through rock and dirt,
as my pain inside me rends.
Dragging through the pouring rain,
within the forest deep.
Crawling through the slippery mud,
through which my blood does seep.
Although the wind is warm around,
you still can see my breath.
For it is a chill within,
I call my living death.
I am so close I grind my teeth,
and powder starts to fall…
from my mouth and out my nose,
as I answer one last call.
My eyes have sunk, and fallen in…
I’ve lost the strength to glow.
Brought to my knee by not my own,
but by another’s blow.
My tags are wrapped around my neck,
and tighten all the time..
I cough up blood and hack it out,
and choke on my own chyme.
My gun is gone, I’ve lost that tool,
sunken to the sand…
now I’ve only armed myself,
with a razor in my hand.
The memories I have of you,
keep me going strong.
But not the ones that make me smile,
please don’t get me wrong.
While inst my job you have left me,
for another man…
for someone more “sensative”,
the one I call a lamb.
I served my country, I served you,
this is what I get?
An endless life of misery,
to pay off your last debt.
With blade in hand and blood I pour,
it’s not from battle I retreat.
Right now I go to return to them,
and the enemy I will meet.
I have not a chance, I cannot walk,
blinded by my sweat….
I shall not stop until I die,
and my ending I have met…
I’m leaving now to serve MY land,
why not I fret or cry?
Because you love has left me cold,
is why I’m not afraid to die.