Men of Hay; What is "me?"

In the hands of the men of hay;

From their hands, a diamond fell. 

When coal became a fortune;

My ever green soon began to grow.

At dawn, from where a soldier looks,

He sees-- Saw what was a bow.

If you ask a soldier what he saw,

He saw-- "Hands of the men of hay I see."

Follow where I've stepped in snow,

Melting-- The winter melts me. 

Men of hay soon ask me to taste.

Taste this-- Bitter taste was bloody. 

Dust is the ash of earth,

And the men of hay are my children.

What will they become?

I am-- But who can be me?

All the hay is men of golden grass,

The morning seems to-- I've gone mad.

The evergreen is apples on my tongue,

Like the allergy of a peanut to your mouth.

One, but followed not by two,

The third is now forgotten.

In this dream we salute who--

Can that "who" be me and grass?

On a mountain of voices of the passing,

Souls of earth are made with hay.

Let me soon become the coal-- Transform.

What is me? 

The Diamond. 

Author's Note

None of my writing ever really rhyme nor do they make sense, but I put feeling in Every single word. I need feedback please. Lots of it!! What do you guys think?

Reviews

[hurdur]

It's okay. Just because things are poem don't mean they have to rhyme :)