A November MourningA Poem by sansameA poem I wrote a couple years ago for remembrance day.A mind holds limitless thoughts, Striving to reach the surface of our busy mentality. But which of these thoughts strike you, As your life lay overcome by brutality? As you lye and wait for death to come, After fighting for some you hardly know, Is selfishness even a virtue, then? When a man’s blood would cease to flow? Young man, still having a life to be lived, Thousands of things he was yet to see, Many lessons yet to be learned, To become the man he was meant to be. But not hate corrupted his sight, Honour sparkled in his eye. For, though his life was cut short, He lived years in the minutes before he died. And from the strive, for which he wished, Before a bullet struck his flesh, His heart was filled with accomplishment, And all love and hate could mesh. A smile tugged at his lips, Yet it was the end of the line, for him. Visions of pride, and dreams of hope, coursed through his every limb. One sweet life forced to leave its body behind, a long life degraded as pride takes its turn, He lived and died in honor for us, and he learned to accept, and to discern. That fate chose him as a symbol of freedom, Though this symbolism would result in his fall. And now, I know, we have but little obligation, Just to remember; A great duty, yet so small. © 2014 sansameReviews
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