Pookiecowpoke - Cherry Tomatoes And Such

Just making sure everyone knows

IT'S THIS HANDSOME BEANS BIRTHDAY TODAY @abigor29

HAPPY 20TH BIRTHDAY HUBBY

P.s. be sure to wish him a happy birthday UwU

Some lil doodled I did of my adventures stealing a chicken featuring my Kapitan @cursed-drivein-29

“A Captain’s Regret”

My hands are stained with blood,

Hanging over the trench is a rotting corpse,

My uniform is caked in mud,

Men went over the top, became bodies with a thud,

I told them, “show no remorse”,

My hands are stained with their blood,

Rats feast on the dead that lay in the crud,

Flies and maggots infest a dead horse,

My soldiers’ uniforms are caked in mud,

The souls of the dead float away in a scud,

My whistle blow was the death source,

My hands are stained with his blood,

Mustard gas clouds spread like a flood,

I watched him die as the gas ran its course,

His uniform is caked in mud,

The memories so painful, as bitter as cud,

I can’t even blame the enemy force,

My hands are stained with blood,

My uniform is caked in mud. 

Thou Shalt Not Kill

The first step onto foreign soil sparked a sensation of guilt.

I was drafted by my home to fight in this war, sent to kill.

But ‘thou shalt not kill’, says the 6th Commandment.

This nation’s economy and population were already destroyed.

I don’t even remember the reasons behind the big argument.

But without a truce, more and more deaths would fuel the fire.

My first battle was a shock with constant gunfire.

The enemy side seemingly showed no guilt.

Orders were given out, and no one argued. 

That bloody battle was the first time I killed.

In a matter of seconds, a human life was destroyed.

I blamed the death on orders given by my commander.

After the battle we moved to an area under enemy command.

As we marched along, the roads were lined with fires.

Bodies of our boys lay in the mud and destruction.

I felt pity for them, but I doubt our enemy felt any guilt. 

I prayed for their souls and internally vowed to kill.

My gut stirred, and I’m sure it was my heart arguing.

In the next fight, I ignored my mind’s and heart’s argument.

I rushed into battle alongside my brothers and my commander.

Seeing my comrades’ dead bodies brought the strong urge to kill.

I aimed my rifle and only slightly hesitated before firing.

I expected to feel sick at my actions, but I barely felt guilt.

Maybe, in the name of my country, it was okay to destroy.

When I accepted that fact, it became easy to destroy.

I lifted my rifle up and shot without mental argument.

My long days stopped ending in sickening guilt.

My religion melted away, along with the ten Commandments.

Death after death, my morals burned in a mental fire.

I learned that to survive in this mess I needed to kill. 

My job in life turned from a worshipper to a killer

I killed once more, but this time it was a boy who was destroyed.

I only realized he was a civilian, not a soldier, after firing.

I dropped to my knees while trying to create an argument. 

I couldn’t blame this death on my Commander. 

An innocent life taken, and that filled me with grief and guilt.

I command myself every night to pray for those killed.

I felt so much guilt for those lost under my own gunfire.

I argue it was my fault, and I take blame for the destruction caused.