I Was A Boy When I First

The Universal Pervasion Of Ugliness, Hideous Landscapes, Vile Noises, Foul Language...everything. Unnatural, Broken, Blasted; The Distortion Of The Dead, Whose Unburiable Bodies Sit Outside The Dug Outs All Day, All Night, The Most Execrable Sights On Earth. In Poetry We Call Them The Most Glorious.

Heart, You Were Never Hot Nor Large, Nor Full Like Hearts Made Great With Shot

These Men Are Worth Your Tears. You Are Not Worth Their Merriment.

The Old Lie:dulce Et Decorum Est Pro Patria Mori.

My Soul's A Little Grief, Grappling Your Chest, To Climb Your Throat On Sobs; Easily Chased On Other Sighs And Wiped By Fresher Winds.