Farewell to my mother as I left for war,
The days went by till we sailed from the shore.
Away from the country that I call home,
From the quaint little greenhouse to the quaint garden gnome.
Farewell to my father as we arrived at the port,
Rations were sparse, conversation was short.
We hiked up the river and down by the stream,
The warm summer glimmer was merely a dream.
Farewell to my brother as I sat in the frost,
Ten feet from the hole where the bodies were tossed.
I need an escape from this hell which I am a part,
My conscience is murderous, I need a new start.
I pick up the gun,
The prospect of death.
Farewell to my love, as I took my last breath.
Realistic and sad penning, well crafted. 🐦