Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
Army Of The Dead
2 ReviewsWorld War II/Poetry fic. Gerard finds himself consumed with grief at the loss of his brother in combat and writes him one last letter to say goodbye.
Something a little different to my usual, I know. I don't often do poetry on account of the fact that I'm not all that good at it, however it is the first form of writing I ever used and a part of me will always have a soft spot for it. Enjoy!
I'm knee high in filth and blood, gore smeared across my face. Looking at the mess of carnage and destruction we've left behind us, I wonder if it was truly worth it. Losing one so dear all for the chaos of war. All this thoughtless violence. For what? We were told all of these ridiculous tales back in camp, how the enemy has no soul. That their eyes burn with the fury and hatred of demons as they tear your insides out and eat them in front of you for sport. Even the fuhrer himself forges these abominations out of the flesh of sinners in the darkest depths of Hell, apparently.
No. How anyone can think such idiocy is beyond me. Watch 14 year old laddies scream in terror and cry for the comfort of their mother and father as I impale them with my bayonet. Watch the life drain from a man's face in a scarlet sea of misery as I shoot him in the neck and try to tell me that I'm not the devil in all of this. The Germans aren't monsters; they're human beings.
Mind you, monsters and men are never far apart. I wonder. Which am I? Which was the gunner who took away my brother's life? Maybe it's too late for questions such as these. maybe I'll never get my answers. I'm an artist smothered by death's embrace. I must depart without Mikey for the very first time. Bile rises in my throat. I drop the scribbling of my anguish in the mud, watching the substance consume my hastily scrawled words. Maybe another artist may be able to make light of them someday.
Or perhaps, just like Mikey's bones, they'll stay within this mire for eternity. Either way, with tears in my eyes, I'm gone.
Mortal shackles unbound at your touch
Lifting, rising through the meadow
A danse macabre across the here and there
Float with me now in the fields of gold
Pity the choir of beggars and vultures who circle beneath
those who would pick and chew at festering scraps know not the light of peace
Nor the warmth of eternal summers day
And shall I take this to be our final farewell?
words fall and shatter, meaningless playthings in our hands
How could they replace a touch, a smile, an embrace?
Rest now in the chamber of our dreams
Leave me weary but fulfilled
I know you are no longer far from me, I need not lament
Our souls entwined, eternal as one, oh brother
find me in my sleep.
Remember, reviews fuel my passion! P.S, for those interested The second part of Lipgloss Through My Veins shall be up in a few days, i'm about halfway through it. Here's the link if you haven't read it. http://ficwad.com/story/199910 Basically Frank is a heroin addict, Gerard is a depressed teacher who tries to save his life. Love ya, -CGD
I'm knee high in filth and blood, gore smeared across my face. Looking at the mess of carnage and destruction we've left behind us, I wonder if it was truly worth it. Losing one so dear all for the chaos of war. All this thoughtless violence. For what? We were told all of these ridiculous tales back in camp, how the enemy has no soul. That their eyes burn with the fury and hatred of demons as they tear your insides out and eat them in front of you for sport. Even the fuhrer himself forges these abominations out of the flesh of sinners in the darkest depths of Hell, apparently.
No. How anyone can think such idiocy is beyond me. Watch 14 year old laddies scream in terror and cry for the comfort of their mother and father as I impale them with my bayonet. Watch the life drain from a man's face in a scarlet sea of misery as I shoot him in the neck and try to tell me that I'm not the devil in all of this. The Germans aren't monsters; they're human beings.
Mind you, monsters and men are never far apart. I wonder. Which am I? Which was the gunner who took away my brother's life? Maybe it's too late for questions such as these. maybe I'll never get my answers. I'm an artist smothered by death's embrace. I must depart without Mikey for the very first time. Bile rises in my throat. I drop the scribbling of my anguish in the mud, watching the substance consume my hastily scrawled words. Maybe another artist may be able to make light of them someday.
Or perhaps, just like Mikey's bones, they'll stay within this mire for eternity. Either way, with tears in my eyes, I'm gone.
Mortal shackles unbound at your touch
Lifting, rising through the meadow
A danse macabre across the here and there
Float with me now in the fields of gold
Pity the choir of beggars and vultures who circle beneath
those who would pick and chew at festering scraps know not the light of peace
Nor the warmth of eternal summers day
And shall I take this to be our final farewell?
words fall and shatter, meaningless playthings in our hands
How could they replace a touch, a smile, an embrace?
Rest now in the chamber of our dreams
Leave me weary but fulfilled
I know you are no longer far from me, I need not lament
Our souls entwined, eternal as one, oh brother
find me in my sleep.
Remember, reviews fuel my passion! P.S, for those interested The second part of Lipgloss Through My Veins shall be up in a few days, i'm about halfway through it. Here's the link if you haven't read it. http://ficwad.com/story/199910 Basically Frank is a heroin addict, Gerard is a depressed teacher who tries to save his life. Love ya, -CGD
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