Poetry

Degrees of horror

By 14th October 2006December 9th, 2019No Comments

There are degrees of horror, a soldier knows well
He keeps them inside and never will tell.
The death of an animal is the first one,
Accidental not meant, still shot with a gun.
The second a soldier, an enemy not friend,
With a pull of the trigger, his life will he end.
The third is much harder, the death of a mate,
For the rest of his life, that image he’ll hate.
The fourth is the start of his life’s torment,
The death of a woman, accidental not meant.
The fifth is a child, playing with a toy gun,
He thought it was real, a single shot-it was done.
And finally the nightmare that won’t go away,
A baby so young, never to grow another day.
To the end of his days, a soldier will take,
Those memories from Hell, for his country sake.
So if you spy an old soldier, look closer and see,
Scars he carries inside, forever they’ll be.

Jon Lawton

Author Jon Lawton

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