This Life Is Death Poem by Sheldon Carruthers

We are but brittle twigs
to be stamped underfoot
We are but reeds broken in the wind
by a force we do not comprehend
We are but candles consumed then become extinct
We are the soldiers that never returned
We are empty of fear but also of life
We are bathed in the blood of our forefathers
We have no purpose but to be destroyed
solitude we seek but we have no home
heaven we desire but in hell we reside
We yearn for truth but are only told lies
Death only death remains