The dead maybe the lucky ones in a war. The ones who live through it are never the same. The troops come home but they never come back.

The Ghosts Lament

You cut me in half
With your machine gun
And I was only ten.

Maybe it was a mistake
Maybe you were frightened
Maybe you were bored
Or showing off for your friends
But I am dead
Cut in half at the age of ten.

I will never know
The love of a woman.
I will never hear
The laughter of my children,
Or spend long afternoons
Drinking tea and telling stories
In my old age.

It is up to you now
To do these things
For me for I am dead,
And you are alive.

But I fear you cannot
Do these things
Anymore than I can.

You cut me in half
With your machine gun
When I was ten
And killed your
Humanity in the process.

I weep for us both.

Poetry by Budart
Read 593 times
Written on 2011-04-25 at 23:53

Tags War 

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text

ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
Off to the wars they send us
Did so sinsce time began
Those returning never the same
Again ever
They remember what they left behind
Envying those who died
Fore coming back there youth left behind
Inasanse , boyhood and today girlhood
Lay somewear behind
The shaterd mind reshaped in something
That can not be disribde in words to those who ask
whats it like , what did you do , didyou kil any one
Whats it like to kill
You the sdaviver looks kind of blank
If you ant thing it would be '' you dont wona know ''
Kid '' '' you just dont wona know what I know ''

John Ashleigh
As galateus said - very "real and hard-hitting".

This poem is ever so compelling, and your insight impresses me. This is a true sentimental peice for many people, I beleive. Thankyou for taking the time to share.


Solemn, real, hard-hitting.
"I weep for us both." There are no winners in war.
And the war-dead are the ones with the most peace.