a literary expedition

...for those men out there, standing, fallen or forgotten... Victory is not the goal Still fight has become the core Of days and of nights No  armour  but knights Not that i am brave But scared of the grave Alert as a little bird Cant trust anybody’s word Scared to drop the guard Scared to leave the sword Even the dogs bark, shadow Nights, mirror or lanes narrow Living engulfed in fear Wounds and Loss of peer Without friend, without aid Sharpening the blade For an enemy never known Hallucinations and sickness born Killing my men more than the war Blood, till where sight can go far On the other side, a dove or cloud’s sight Deceived by eyes looked like a flag white A brief dream of joy and the sight Of the city in victory’s festive light Flashes like a mirage But woken by the carriage How magnificent we shone New boots, new guards worn Marching in the streets, proud People over joyed singing loud I can still hear them 

todayS took everything from me, tomorrowS expected too much from me. yesterdayS refused to come back to me i winded my time machine i skipped to someday ... but someday is a dangerous day it never came. everything kept for someday too never came.