• I close my eyes
    and see rifles in a pretty little line
    The feel of the strap against my palm
    brings back memories of blood and bruises,
    of lost fingers and burst vessels.
    It wasn't meant to be this way...
    I was only a replacement.

    Ceremonial sabres fall to pieces
    beneath the soft touch of callused thumbs.
    Sleep comes not easy
    to those who've launched a blitzkrieg.
    My Guard Mates know the tune I sing,
    Smoke made a ghost of our life
    in the Octobers of a third year.
    It's not fair.
    We lost two weeks of life
    separated by a constant rain of fire.
    I was only a replacement.

    Skin's peeling back,
    scar tissue's turning white,
    cracked lips call out never ending orders.
    I was only a replacement.