Dream to be a Soldier

[Ranokoa]

I was a boy once, happy and joyful.

I had many friends, and boy were we cool,

even though I thought only of life after school.

A dream it was of mine to see my ambitions full,

to protect my home, be a soldier and my country's tool.

 

I'd be a hero, a warrior of honor and pride!

My squad and I would tear through the enemy's side,

Never stopping, always fighting in stride.

Mercy shown to those who abide,

A soldier of good, from whom no evil may hide.

 

Then it happened, the day had come!

Schooling over, time to bear the emblem.

I went down and joined in the name of freedom,

Ran through training with speed you couldn't fathom,

and eagerly arrived at the field of pure bedlam.

 

In an instant I realized how much I was wrong.

Death was everywhere, pain and misery all night long.

The field of battle is somewhere no man should belong.

And always the first to die are the headstrong.

Here no one sings their country's song.

 

Violence incomprehensible always abound,

Nowhere safe was ever to be found.

Screams of terror the only existent sound,

from writhing wounded all over the ground.

Then my turn came, and quickly I was downed.

 

It was supposed to be a simple routine patrol,

We thought it was safe, all was under control,

but we learned quickly everything has its toll.

Guns poking out from an obscure hole,

An ambush rang, and surviving our only goal.

 

Without time to figure out how or why,

I'm thrown to the ground, and hit in the thigh.

Not a second later more bullets start to fly,

then one by one, by brothers start to die.

My family's corpses forever burned in my eye.

 

Salvation comes far too late to matter.

With death from above, the enemy all scatter.

Soon they rushed in to save me from capture,

but for what I care it could have been the rapture.

Never again shall I hear my brother's laughter.

 

They sent me back home and away from that hell,

but the burning corpses I could still smell.

Waking up here or there was impossible to tell.

I feel as nothing more than a mere shell,

constantly in a battle no one may quell.

 

Not a day passes that I don't sit and wonder,

Why was my life spared from painful sunder?

Why did I survive that terrible blunder?

I wished instead it could have been a brother.

Now I just sit here, mourn and wither.

 

Now those who I fought for think me a heathen.

They stop, point and shout to me that I am the reason,

for all the worlds horrors, and every evil legion.

"Murderer, I hope you rot and die in a prison!"

Caring only to belittle the sacrifice of their servicemen.

 

For those who would listen to me and care,

I warn you now if that's a life you'd dare.

Seeing your men die through a bloody glare,

then living on in a demeaning chair,

it is a life that nothing can help to prepare.

 

Should you still want to join the dispute,

knowing the terrors that war will distribute,

and sign yourself up as a new recruit,

to chase your country's enemy in bloody pursuit,

then help me stand, so you I may salute!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kudos if you like it!

 

Be well, sleep well, fight well, live long.

~Ranokoa

Edited September 18, 2011 by Ranokoa

[Ranokoa]

It wasn't really very inspired. I wish I wrote it better, there are a few places where the flow is kind if disturbed, but since it's been so long since I've really written anything I thought I might try to pump one out here or there in hopes it will get me in the mood, and maybe actually result in an inspired poem.

[Flintlockecole]

Interesting.