deepundergroundpoetry.com
His End
A man of war
Serves his last purpose
To die along the line
And feed the worms and trees for so long;
His rough face sags
With a mysterious
Shapeshifting manner
As time goes on.
The gun he carries
Not from distaste, but desire
Has its shocking
And horrifying past;
The uniform he wears
Deformed from wear and tear,
Dingy, inch by inch,
As a never vanquishing cast.
Published 5th May 2013
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