On a once verdant land,

Lays the soldier with the clenched hand.

Pried, the discovery of a shiny tag,

Emerged from among his tattered rags.

This was part of his general’s plan?

A letter home, he perished valiantly,

But that boy, in truth, he died so violently,

His feet infested with the stench of the trench,

In a puddle of scarlet liquid, he was drenched.

Is it fair to say Sergeant _____ died eagerly?

The flames of battle, the beat of drums,

The glorious march and valorous hums,

Marching onwards as a legion of slaves,

Bringing the bullet wounds into the grave.

Is this what humanity has become?