A Scar
In October of sixty-nineJust two months prior
I made it back
From the horrors of war
Still fully intact
It bucked a ground and shuddered
The conveyor did
Consuming my arm
Up to where this scar begins
From the middle to the wrist
Did the mechanical beast
Feast upon my flesh
Down to the bone
Nearly tearing my hand from its wrist
God help me! Help me!
My screams echo in my ears
Then the face of an angel
To answer my prayer appeared
This scar is a reminder of how fate
Brought me to light, before too late
Like the man in the forest, who escapes the bear
Only to bitten, by a snake
In the safety of his lair
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