The Figure
I walk.
It is silent,
Fog clings to me.
Like the mud to my boots.
My bayonet gleams,
from what little light there is.
The rats flee at my sight,
but I am afraid that they are not alive with fear.
I move on.
Then I see the figure.
I tell him,
"Halt! Identify yourself!"
Silence.
I repeat myself.
Then fire.
The figure does not move,
react in any way.
I come closer,
and closer.
I see the uniform,
much like my own.
His eyes Soulless,
His heart lifeless.
His flesh reduced to bone and skin,
"I am Sorry."
I am sorry.
For such a soul wasted,
a life stolen.
For this war to end all wars.
This war to end all wars.
