The Battle of Gettysburg
The sound of rifles, cannons, and shouts.
Heaps of bodies lie.
Everyone they knew had someone who they cared about.
Bring home the survivors, the heroes, forgetting those who die.
Adams Country, Pennsylvania was only a distant scream.
Tallying up the death toll the number reached ten thousand.
Talking to those soldiers and those who still scream.
Leaving once a friend now a soul in those sacred hands.
Everything is still in place.
O’ father I pray, please be no more blood be shed.
For we still have to march to battle in a steady pace.
Going to war marching, remembering the dead.
Everyone has a familiar face.
The smell of gun powder.
The distant rumbles.
Yet we march with power.
Sighting the enemy.
Beginning to fight.
Urging the pain to be soothed.
Rings of smoke emerge.
Gasping for the last breath I am tattered, for we the Union has won.