“Faceless Soldiers“
by Emma McLarin
The road’s not long,
A month of a minute
Made out to be at ease
Tragic fate, not a breeze.
Still, they walk on,
O, sweet children of animus.
They fight; don’t hurt us!
Brother’s maroon stains a sleeve.
Gaunt, they stand frail
Ever-grey as the storm,
Pallid, yet fierce.
Their unconsenting fate
The pigs through the fence,
They stare so intensely.
Scarf on your meal, sir,
Don’t utter but a single chirp.
Their greed ever growing,
His maroon feeds their gut,
Fuels their vengeful fire
Fills their grimy pouch,
Yet the children still march,
Repetition of their unbeknownst sins,
Rammed by the hog,
An envelope of travesty
In their pockets, they held
Memories of a slight
Reminiscent of point A,
A bundle to hold, a love to kiss
Yet unbeknownst to them,
Their fates have been sealed.
These thin men pursue
Their travesty of sin.
