I lay my cheeks against the sheets,
that billow in the wind.
With dreams of promises never made,
echo sounds you now rescind.
The heated dust that rise beyond,
and burn my fleshed out heart.
Prolonged the cry beneath my breath,
cracked peeling, stripped of art.
Parched the mouth of wasted foe,
he creeps upon my lips,
and in his thorny, barb wired prongs,
I'm held a prisoners grips.
Too much, too tired and in despair,
Darkness death does decay.
He holds my hand toward the end,
In war is where I lay.