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Array ( [sid] => 172261 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Shame Of A Cowardice Hero [time] => 2012-04-30 17:08:14 [hometext] => Umm, this is brutal. It's pretty self explanatory: enjoy. [bodytext] => Your smile: frayed by fountains of fear,
but cowardice was found sparsely in heroes.
Those dreams, that door back to the darkness,
seldom does sleep subdue sadness.
Those old friends of yours, the ones who are dead
gaze with nothingness: emotions spent.

The days grow thick with introspective dread,
the screaming, the bullets and rainfall never end.
The red nights, the grey days and endless fatigue,
they beg to death, though he never heeds their pleas.
Those old wooden crosses, they represent your friends,
their hopes and their dreams and how they came to an end.

History; yours is branded with the mark of a hero,
though your visions: branded with the words of the dead.
The disillusion of patriotic pride hastily evaporates,
left with the image the group of bodies that congregate.
Never again to enjoy the simple pleasures of life,
just ponder on the past, ponder on the past.

All you now know is death, dread and despair,
but cowardice is found sparsely in heroes.
Through the noose said the coward was pure,
spilled blood like a butcher, pure in the overture.
The mark of a hero died valiantly with pride,
a hero brave enough to take his own life.
[comments] => 1 [counter] => 174 [topic] => 57 [informant] => me1234 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 0 [associated] => [topicname] => war )

Shame Of A Cowardice Hero

Contributed by me1234 on Monday, 30th April 2012 @ 05:08:14 PM in AEST
Topic: war

Your smile: frayed by fountains of fear,
but cowardice was found sparsely in heroes.
Those dreams, that door back to the darkness,
seldom does sleep subdue sadness.
Those old friends of yours, the ones who are dead
gaze with nothingness: emotions spent.

The days grow thick with introspective dread,
the screaming, the bullets and rainfall never end.
The red nights, the grey days and endless fatigue,
they beg to death, though he never heeds their pleas.
Those old wooden crosses, they represent your friends,
their hopes and their dreams and how they came to an end.

History; yours is branded with the mark of a hero,
though your visions: branded with the words of the dead.
The disillusion of patriotic pride hastily evaporates,
left with the image the group of bodies that congregate.
Never again to enjoy the simple pleasures of life,
just ponder on the past, ponder on the past.

All you now know is death, dread and despair,
but cowardice is found sparsely in heroes.
Through the noose said the coward was pure,
spilled blood like a butcher, pure in the overture.
The mark of a hero died valiantly with pride,
a hero brave enough to take his own life.

Copyright © me1234 ... [ 2012-04-30 17:08:14]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: Shame Of A Cowardice Hero (User Rating: 1 )
by deusdeira on Monday, 30th April 2012 @ 05:13:07 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

The strength of emotional pain can often be greater than that of physical pain. I feel strongly for the person described in this poem. Few people in life have to shoulder such a burden, and unfortunately, death or memory loss are the only release.

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