Rays of sunlight filter through the cracks in the crumbling
roof, revealing the fine particles of dust drifting aimlessly
to the dirt floor of this old dilapidated southern barn.
Yesterday's unspeakable secrets continually linger in
the silent solitude of this unholy chamber of death!
Listen and you may still
hear the sounds of the Rebel yell,
before he takes his dying breath!
A piece of the old rope still hangs
from the aging rafter.
Over a century has passed…
no one remembers and no
Dead at sixteen!
Bill Ray was his name…
War was his game!
Being a soldier for Robert E. Lee…
in the year of 1863.