F.M.L. you Jezebel it looks as though I’m going to hell but why not come along with me and hand in hand we’ll wait and see what wonders pass for thoughts these days behind the rusted wrought irons gaze. Oh how we long to know the truth from ancient bones designed in youth as memories swoon to reach the clouds (I hope I’ve made my parents proud) My daughters know not what I’ve done, whilst wearing green in summers sun or Sandy coloured camouflage in desserts filled with sabotage. I’ve wielded weapons stood my ground I’ve heard my stricken heartbeat pound against my chest as fear is met, but never have I second guessed what actions should be carried out, as orders to my troops I shout to shield them from the bullets arc, to keep them safe until the dark comes pressing in to give us breath and lead us from our place of death to fight once more when called upon when none are lost and we are gone.
