He lies upon a bed of
glass,
In the broken shade of a blackened
tree,
As demons shake the
ground
With gouts of flame
And the world turns
upside down.
He lies upon a bed of
glass,
Undisturbed by the
discord of war,
Where bullets burst from
powder flares
And sinful rains
Howl with deathly showers
of red.
He lies upon a bed of
glass
And doesn’t see the skirmish’s
end,
Nor hear the rallying
cry… “For Percy,”
When their nemesis fell
Beneath the grim wheels
of vengeance.
He lies upon a bed of
glass
And cannot feel the
trembling hands,
Of tearful allies, who sob,
“Come back,”
Yet find their anguished
pleas to go
Unheard by stagnant ears.
He knows not that he left
them behind,
Nor cares where he goes
from there,
He abandoned all worry
As his soul spilt upon
the battlefield,
Where he lies upon a bed
of glass… asleep.
