The Great

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Dead hill,
our will,
is what we live for.
Cars stop,
news drop,
manly we bore,
our fathers fought for peace and stills there’s war,
more and more bodies hit the floor,
when we stop no one knows for sure,
why we knock on the door,
when we know what the other side is waiting for.
But we soldiers of grace,
fall of a new face,
we run not out of fear but out of the human race,
we live at a pace,
track our own trace,
put it in a case,
put them in a brace,
lets give them shoes to lace,
we laugh and chase,
we forced to make haste,
what we buy we waste,
what we see we taste,
we rewrite to erase,
we stop to demonstrate,
so quick to hate,
the bigger the weight,
decide our own fate,
debate not for what we hate but to who we relate,
for our sake,
appreciate the great.

This poem was written/submitted by amg2life.

Category: Soldier Poems
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