Can You Hear That Sound?

Can you hear that sound
The voices of the past
They scream and holler
From underneath the grass

Their corpses rot within the soil
Pulses halted, lives foiled
The tombstones tell their mortal stories
Born the eighteenth, died at forty

The cannon balls fire
Wounds covered in red
The smoke rises higher
As they are laid in their eternal bed

They fought for their loved ones
For the red, white, and blue
For freedom and honor
They died for it too

Their bodies now sleep
In rows of white marble
Though the willows do not weep
In fact, they are humble

Can you hear that sound
The voices of the past
They yell out in spirit
"Freedom at last"

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Now being an eighteen-year-old college freshman at my local community college, it is astounding to reminisce and see how well I was writing almost three years ago when I originally wrote this poem. I have always aspired to inspire others and I hope I can always do so.