Shell Shock
Duress and death and flies persist
but I can't rest, or I won't rise
While on I press, relays of mist
that graze beside me now and then,
make red my dead and distant eyes
but raise my listing head again
Unhinged, ashamed, yet still servile,
I aim and brave men atomize
to ginger haze around me, while
ghosts and grenades fill the skies...
Copyright © Lycia Harding | Year Posted 2018
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