Modernism · Poetry · Writing

A Life of Conflict (Draft)

Let the cool metal shift restlessly at your side

With sweating palms and shaky strides

The enemy takes no care for fear though

As it would disadvantage them

So let yourself be the only one to know


You’re alone now, out on the battlefield

Left to wonder if it was all real

As the men that once were your comrades now

No longer breathe or raise attack

But give their life, an unspoken vow


As you wait with the few that made it back to the trench

The cries of the stragglers make your fists clench

Taking life is not something that should come so easily

But it always leaves the question

“Am I next? Will it be me?”



Author’s Note: This was something I wrote a long time ago for an assignment, and I’m currently trying to rework it, but I wanted to share the original, for the sake of posterity, I suppose. As a write, I feel like perhaps I am growing, and though the re-draft may come to nothing, I’ll always have this first draft to remind me of where I started (This, I’m almost certain, was the first real poem I wrote).

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