HE was...
he lived his life
all quiet. And bored
he lived all his life
on fish on the shore.
Born in the net
as a fisherman's son
all of his sweat
never got nothing, none.
Stairing at night,
he lived all his life...
Under moonlight
He picked up his knife
when the war came...
Burning the cities,
and firing the shots;
Bombing the people,
and finding the slots.
Bleeding from veines
had scars on his face.
He prizoned in chains,
supporting his race
He fought in a battle
with scream and the noise
He heard a gun rattle
protecting the boys
Sank in the swamp
and cut enemy's throats;
He thouched the blood,
and slept under his coat.
He spent all his life
praying to God
burried alife
in his poor soldier squad...
He was
© Copyright: Татьяна Уткина, 2007
Свидетельство о публикации №107042500641
Свидетельство о публикации №107042500641
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