Tell me…

Tell me you saw me amidst the rubble
Hands trained toward heaven, fingers begging for salvation come,
For one last caress, for one last feeling.
 
Tell me you fought a tear and lost
Over my bloodied face, eyes wide-empty,
Grey of concrete dust, seeing no more.
 
Tell me a fist grew in the hollows of your soul
when you peered in the shambles of my youth
Exposed obscenely for the world to see
bones, flesh, guts, and clothes
Torn by bullets, rockets, and bombs.
 
Tell me you shook, if not with anger, with bother,
When they told in the nightly voice
That I was one of many, many younger, many older,
 all with mouths full of stale air, and faces gray and red of war.
 
Tell me you shook, tell me you cared,
While I fell, mangled-hands stretched before me,
Toward a sky that never came, with faces ruined trailing the blows
That no more I feel forever now.
 
 
 Signature poetry
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About cyrilbussiere

Author (Author.to/CyrilLCBussiere), Writer, Scientist, and Nurse-to-be. I'm into writing, reading, gaming, raising chickens, playing guitar, and traveling. Man, do I love traveling!
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