Gray is the winter sky, on the edge of the treeless forest.
Grey is flesh with holes, in its gray uniform.
A cockade faded by the sun. Insignias worn away by the rain.
Black is the boot on the foot, in the blackened flesh.
In the black tattered wreck, shot down.
Eyes split open.
Tears at the gates of death.
Dead they don't need a reason to take revenge.
The dead will never complain again.
To lift the spirit of life from the body.
Destined to die for one's country.
White is a snow suit on yo, silhouetted against the horizon.
White lips in a parted mouth, leaning on a gun.
Last guard post. Having lost the last man.
Red is blood in the hair, a bullet in the body.
Red is a hole as a sign of the last breath.
Mouth frozen by a scream.
Captain leading the group.
The dead they don't need a reason to take revenge.
The dead will never complain again.
To lift the spirit of life from the body.
Destiny to die for one's country.

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS