Red in the White was Once Blue

If circumstance had not taken a seat;

If chance had not happened as it did

Then this beautiful - perfectly blue sky 

Could not witness the brethren meet

He had been a good child

Rising with the sun to chase demons

Across the dark woods that held his wonder

But he never did understand why the wild

A strong young man with a twisted mind

That held a peculiar fantasy with the night

Being that it was a lover and a torturer

He really never knew what was kind

The road became his peace and master

The miles were a consuming nurture

And each destination just another strange

Though he could never leave; only run faster

They gave him a gun and colors to wear

Taught he well to hunt another man

Took his conscious and gave him eyes that stare

And with each deed he indeed, took less fare

The village was silent and still

Not even birds left to sing

Nor any reason to feel condemned

And he set upon destruction with skill

When the fires died and the ill smoke cleared

The mothers and their children were dead

How could he know they would hide in dread

His soul shrieked; what he saw-  he feared

And so he reverted to a young boy - flawed

Running after a  ghost in the ill fated woods

But there was no place to hide from his doom

He was captured, tried to face a firing squad

The late December day was cold gripped in throe

The whitened ground married to sky of grey

They stood him alone with nobody to pray

The metal pierced his chest and red stained the snow

His story was condensed to one line on black stone

No one who came  claimed to have paid the marker;

Under a beautiful - perfectly blue sky 

It read:  He lived and he died - alone.