The Barbaric Yawp

A few words, I speak.
I stutter, I stammer
and there on the battleground,
I wait for someone to come and stab me.
I reach the edge,
And then I slump
Into a river that floods the town
You don’t understand, the water is neck-deep.
I’m begging for mercy on God’s feet.
Now only guilt
Now only remorse
And repeating tapes from the combat
My mother raised me so much better than that.