He lay there
bleeding on the battle field
amok with rivers of blood
that flowed from the wound of his brothers
he lay there dying
blinded by the sun
thirsty, his cracked lips bled
his dry throat screamed silently for the elixir of life
he died on that battle field
with the picture of his child and beloved
embedded timelessly with the shrapnel in his heart
his eyes open, yet unseeing
he had lived as a man of honesty
unable to comprehend the monstrosity of an invasion
based on lies and propaganda
a cog in the wheel of life and death
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