a little poem about the suffering at Gettysburg
suffering is blood red
the acid flavor of gun powder
the sulfuric stench of decaying flesh in the air
the blood bubbling and oozing up from the bodies that scatter the land
the wounded moaning and crying in pain before they pass on
being slashed apart by shrapnel the skin sizzling as it hits
the life of the soldiers who lost their lives in battle are still marching