Goodbye Kiva, My dear wife, I’m going to miss you, I wish you everything I couldn’t give you, I love you Never will I be able to. To hold your palm in my hand To look deep into your eyes To have you carry my child None of yond shall befall F'r tis anon timeth f'r me to die ( none of this shall happen, for it is time for me to die in Shakespearean) There is a man whom I plead, A scar red as hell, engraved on his face, He knows legs no more, And is on the brink of the break, Now dear wife, You must be puzzling ‘Was he given armor?’ Why of course he was, an abundance of it He could have survived But drugs were short And Pistols were present For that shortage, he and I will die The horrors of war have shown me That artillery, is the stronger weapon So please dear wife, don’t weep me |