Unknown Soldier Poem by Daniel Y.
Unknown Soldier
O wounded I,
that I was fleshed.
But what of those
I’d mercy-threshed?
And what of else
that I have done,
that made me
so much like a gun?
Love was but a slapping hand.
Little child was reprimand.
What ever else have I known,
O wounded I?
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
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