6 March 2013
Not the start of one does he announce,
Not a legible word does he pronounce,
But everyone does know what he speaks,
His face covered in smothering red streaks,
His blood dribbles from within his every limb,
He's one man through the hopeless, reckless din,
He's new, not even suppose to be out front,
But his bitter sergeant pulled the stunt,
Then shot him through jealousy and years of spite,
Becoming the wrong man on enemy ends of the plight,
Though he is now crying, grovelling at the dying man's feet,
Still do the accusing words set free to preach,
He's a crazed man, set out to blame for his fall,
Always creating havoc, an unnecessary brawl,
He is not brave nor a saviour,
He is a man driven by his stature,
Through bitter luck he earned the higher rank,
Not for pride but for the stacks high in the bank,
He's lead away as the brave soldier shuts his eyes,
A ludicrous coward now screeching the denouncing cries.
A Denouncing Battle Cry • Opuss № I