A young boy of only sixteen
Simple hopes simple dream
In the trenches fighting so vibrantly
Seeing death so young so violently
Dark winter sleeping one eye open
Army fatigue ripped blood soaken
Six months past no more pride
He picks up his rifle lowered his head and cried
With a swig of dark rum
He reloaded his gun
He put one bullet into his brain
No one ever spoke of the simple soldier again
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this is a super poem i like it...i relish the poem...i like the poem for its flow and good theme please read my poems