a little poem about the suffering at Gettysburg


suffering is blood red

the acid flavor of gun powder

the sulfuric stench of decaying flesh in the air

the blood bubbling and oozing up from the bodies that scatter the land

the wounded moaning and crying in pain before they pass on

being slashed apart by shrapnel the skin sizzling as it hits


the life of the soldiers who lost their lives in battle are still marching