A Mother's Son

Inside chamber walls 
Silence is provoken 
A tattered mind is put down to rest 
An eternity of quiet somber 
With one drip of sweat rolling down 
His eyes still looking forward 
A mother's scream is heard aloud 
And no one can grip this fallid sword 
Not a soul could see this man 
No, not for what was inside; a daggar 
The very one that leaps from him 
And lingers forth, in depths of him 
As he breaths no longer 
But this man was more then death itself 
He had a life, true and hard 
Yet he always held his head up high 
Fist shut tight, reaching for the sky 
A perfect fitting for a dagger 
A man to his word no doubt 
Still, he could not hold on forever 
Taken away to a better place 
This man died a living soldier 
Resting among tears and sorrow 
From the face belonging to his mother 
That held his daggered soul 
Always never letting go 
And him being pulled away 
After long hours of steel cold 
He endured, each and every day

by lonedevil on 15 May 2005 at 19:57

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