From "Morning-A Death" by Vietnam War soldier Basil Paquet:
I'd sooner be a fallen pine cone this winter
In a cradle of cold New England rock,
Less hurt in it than nineteen years.
What an exit! Stage left, fronds waving,
Cut down running my ass off at a tree line.
I'm thinking, as I hear my chest
Sucking air through its brand new nipple,
I bought the ticket, I hope I drown fast,
The pain is all in living.
H/t to Rude Pundit
I think that if soldiers and poets reminded us more often of how terrible war is, then there might be less of it.