I wrote my wilted past on the old Rotten Papers of my Dairy.
There are some white ones too.
The Dairy may smell like withered nature and wet shiny soil.
Yet it's dark and Unbearably painful.
...
Give me the scorn of the stars and a peak defiant;
Wail of the pines and a wind with the shout of a giant;
Night and a trail unknown and a heart reliant.
Give me to live and love in the old, bold fashion;
A soldier's billet at night and a soldier's ration;
A heart that leaps to the fight with a soldier's passion.