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A Soldier's Last Heartbeat

Is genius born and not made?
The mind explodes like a green grenade,
It's time to man expire,
Get the purple heart and then retire.
The tank has treads,
Just like my boot,
And I walk and run,
Like part of a troop.
A general in a general war,
A general hate,
A general sorrow.
No time for peace,
But time for the kill,
Shoot and maim,
At your own will.
Advance to the trench,
You sit around all day,
Then face a foe with bayonets.
The drive,
And the offensive,
A plan to defeat,
Creates the perfect situation,
For a soldier's last heartbeat.

©1999-2018 Steve Bujanow

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