Sunday, July 8, 2007


In my slumber I dream of days
When I was just a boy
Before the call to war
Came knocking on my door
Comrades fell on both sides
My wonder to why I was spared
In the cold damp foxhole shivering
My heart greatly despaired
The grimace of pain in my bones
In underlying tones
No real thoughts of going home
Rather just to have it end so I could roam
Two decades have passed since then
On good nights I wont scream
Ghostly images of my comrades
Walk by in a stream
They beckon to me to follow
Down a dismal road
I numb my brain with vodka
To help me ease my load
From time to time I find some work
It never lasts too long
Soon come the voices giving me choices
The loudness is like a gong
That goes off in my head until I can find
A resting place for my tortured mind

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

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