Two Soldiers
The fatal, choking darkness of night
Smothers golden Helios evermore,
As the Sergeant brought him in by dim light
Of dusk, covered in blood, oozing from a score
Of wounds, as if slashed by a thousand sharp knives;
"Shell explosion, cut by the shrapnel,"
Explained the Sergeant, his expression as blank
And emotionless as the dead around us.
I pondered briefly how the War stole
His hopes, his innocence, and his very soul,
Then turned back to the wounded soldier;
For his life could be saved by these healing hands,
But the Sergeant had already lost his,
To this wretched war, this wretched land.














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