Never Cured

I’ve seen death’s eyes,
in a soldiers last gasp.
I’ve heard its ire cries,
in child’s last grasp.

Death beseeches all,
I’ve seen the effect.
War quickens the call,
lives it does infect.

Vision’s of war,
never to be cured.
Causing a mental sore,
of those endured.

In this I sigh,
my mind is ill.
Death is nigh,
It’s a soldiers will.