We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
Or, y’know, vote for Trump.
I’m sure that’ll work out.
Mirrored from Under the Beret.