Righty-O then, last year, I had the stupidest teacher for my Sophmore Honors English Class. But this teacher, in all her infinit stupidity, made us write a lot of poems. This one was an assignment called the Found Poem, and what we had to do was look up poems from WW1, and then everyone in class would write a few favorite lines from their poem on a list. Then everyone had to use only those lines to write an entirely new poem. Unfortunately, I cant tell you what poems these lines are from, or who wrote them, but just know that the majority of these words are not my doing, I just put them together.

Brea

“Help Me to Die oh Lord”

It seemed impossible that he should die.

He who had braved the fields of blood.

Oh the fading eyes,

The grimed face turned bony.

He put a bullet in his brain.

I fell asleep…

Next morning he was dead.

No one spoke of him again.

How shall we look happily on the sun,

Count the stars above,

Without remembering those who’ve left,

those who die as cattle,

Those who begged:

“Help me to die, oh Lord.”