Conscience - Poem by Orlando Belo
The soldier's conscience was bothering him,
the enemy was deep in his thoughts.
Day and night, he questioned his decisions,
whilst mentally and physically he fought.
One early morning as the sun was rising,
he made sure his back faced the sun.
With bayonet fixed, he stabbed his shadow,
all day and until the moon did come.
The day left him totally exhausted and hungry,
but convinced he'd beaten the enemy within.
After a night's sleep his conscience returned,
with a reminder that killing wasn't for him.
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