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The dogtag and the letter home
On a once verdant land,
Lays the soldier with the clenched hand.
Pried, the discovery of a shiny tag,
Emerged from among his tattered rags.
This was part of his general’s plan?
A letter home, he perished valiantly,
But that boy, in truth, he died so violently,
His feet infested with the stench of the trench,
In a puddle of scarlet liquid, he was drenched.
Is it fair to say Sergeant _____ died eagerly?
The flames of battle, the beat of drums,
The glorious march and valorous hums,
Marching onwards as a legion of slaves,
Bringing the bullet wounds into the grave.
Is this what humanity has become?
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