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A Soldier's Minute


They were born in the days

Where blood was always,

And every morn, breathed in

Ashen remains of their kin.

Jesting every while,

Finding thrill in every rile.

But I... For me...

Visions of a minute- deep and seething hate.

Powers of a spirit- such demonic weight.

Simpering bed- quaking chest

Leaden led head- craving only rest

Unfelt plush of pillows,

Soaked through solid in minutes wallowed.