A Trickle Of Blood

That scarlet drop of a life still on my bayonet;
Lying lonely then in a six foot trench fox coffin,
Judgements of those at home not yet screaming in ears.
Shouldn't I have died to free them of guilt ridden freedom?

Only if they knew I had dreamed I wished it happened;
That final pain so much easier to survive than my fear.
Having to kill to live painting me into coward's corner,
At least that's the way I saw it in bloody dying color.

© 2003 Robert William Gruhn A.R.R.