Telltale signs of a miserable desperation;
Javelins shaped with sharp tips at both ends,
Piercing sounds of an uneloquent battle-
The Battle cry goes on without an end.
Unhurt, unwed, unfeeling these Mothers;
Hurting, deserting, unleavened bread of supper,
Their child is a soldier weaving in and out of Deaths Grip
The Battle Cry goes on in the background.
These are the immortals in the background;
These are the Patriots turned a different color-
Their Battle Cry unyielding to a complicated mess of
rituals that have no ending sound, and no back to bear
a witness.
Telltale signs of miseries desperations, all told now, by them.
The Battle Cry, Oh, their Battle Cry...in the background
amongst them.
