Death

A Poem by M. Lapin

Death did not find him alone.
There were others surrounding him,
blood in rivers and streams,
fog and smoke, moan and cry.

He felt the bullet tear into his chest,
another into his gut, a third his arm,
and then he felt nothing at all
but blood, and cold, and more blood.

He did not die alone on the hills
near the trees and boiling grass.
No, he fell with others surrounded
by fog and smoke and to much noise.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in M. Lapin. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s