high mana

its all well
but along way down

pushed high and hard
ignoring that the sky shall
break.

from the front line trenches...

let the smoke rise from all and each flame
we have resorted to shock waves on the front lines

which will break 1st the manpower or resources,
if supply shall brake, were in it alone, what if
the front collapses? can we fall back,
will there be space to form, why leave the martyrs here
without picking there torn body's
there's no justification for moral surrender, we need to
push further into their spaces, attrition at all forms,
bullets to the left shoulder, the bayonets ,

i can pear over the rides, we gotten our orders, we shall
advance
across the burning land, the smashing sky, screams of our bothers, rise, from
all the corners, of the soot filled graves,
we shall pile high, our might, and run, cross the gray,
pulsing, i can;t keep the heart form its leaps, not after years, of inside,
the muddy dusk. peal off another layer of burnt-blistered flesh, from the souls of my foot.

at the horizon the flames lick and up close they kiss my forehead, i can't stand away.

visit our homes, i keep a pictures its tinted now, water damage, we sent hope over, the
ridge, no word yet, were going to try and follow suit. maybe we can find the captured
corpse, and give it our proper rights.