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Just searching.
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IP:
You have until midnight, Rev.
Listen through the trenches to those in the bullets in a cycle,
our thoughts are spinning winds that sing through the spiral.
The cannons remain in idle, we dance to sounds of a rifle,
Stay steady through those trials, and saunter through the aisles.
Flash your badge for bravery and show the clerks your job,
and speak your stories loudly, the tales of surviving frost.
We cross the cost but that's not the reasons we exhaust.
It's because with every missing bullet, another soul is lost.
_____________
He'd mumble a response, thinking of his survivial's chance,
humbly running his digits through his hair and staining his hands.
The man in uniform saw the grease and spoke of the lands...
America...it's a place with big boulders and even rock bands.
The clerk nodded in confusion, then shrugged to the bag boy,
as the man took a washcloth and labelled it an authentic 'rag toy'.
He thought of the soldiers who were dismissed from wars.
They both thought our main man still would reminesce of gore.
"You know, we only accept people who are still part of the force,"
he called to the crazed man, a soldier no longer in the corps.
"How dare you so rudely address a man from doomsday's shores!"
"Sir, that was sixty years ago, and I think you were born before."
He sat there contemplating this, seeming to be in a state of bliss,
he threw a plastic ball at the clerk from his cart, but sadly missed.
"Are you going to buy that, or are you trying to just be a nuisance?"
"You may refrain from talking until you learn German and are fluent."
"I think you're talking about World War Two,"
"No, I think I'm not,"
"But wasn't that the one with doomsday?"
"There's a lot of wars I fought."
_____
As you can imagine, the clerk was in a very deep state of chagrin.
The bag boy was sad, because the bag boy wasn't bagging.
The people behind them were in a hurry, or maybe just impatient,
and one of them had an important meeting and wouldn't make it.
Finally, they figured out the secrets behind this man of mystery,
with his views and compassions of war that distorted history.
He spoke in mimickry and copied the words of those in anger,
and he couldn't tell when someone was about to put him in danger.
It seems our hero was a sixty-five year old with an invalid card,
he suffered from Alzheimer's and his mind rested in shards.
He was brought to jail afterwards, just because lady luck is fickle,
even with a military discount, he couldn't buy ten million jars of pickles.
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