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Poetry from within
   

My Brother, My Enemy


The man I see in front of me I remember when I was three

He made me laugh he made me cry he was there when my father died

When I was sad he made me glad and he took the role of my dad

He sang me songs he read me books the brother I see the enemy he took

We lift my muskets look down the sights squeeze the triggers and start the fight

I look at where my brother once stood I killed the enemy the way I that I should

He was my brother he was my friend in the afterlife my enemy I send

If I survive the war of 1861 it will only be me and my mum

My father John my brother Reece may you both rest in piece.

Gordon Bruce