An Old Poem

[Marcus Kobra]

Here is another poem I wrote about four years ago while in Boot Camp.

"Untitled Poem"
Its hard remembering the days when the sun rose purple, blue, and gold.
We are all trapped here together left with nothing more to hold.
The bitter cold it bites at us while we march down the street.
Yet for all we know its straight to Hell on our own two feet.

All we have to look for tomorrow are the debts we pay for the time we borrow.
Time. . . it flows away like blood.
Yet its like all our plans have got stuck in the mud.

All our grand ideas drowned in piss and I ask you what kinda life is this?
Consumed from within by fires.
Tortured souls on funeral pyres.
Smoke rising up into the atmosphere.
We've got nowhere left to go but to the sea
where the salty breeze cools the fires burning inside of me.