Muzzle flash, sound and sight in my head with the dead.

Glint of a sniper, chest getting tighter.

Bones of our brothers rattle in unending piles.

Creaking of tracked vessels of war, silenced with the crack of artillery fire.

I must survive these cruel and grueling trials.

Boots in files of will-be deadmen.

Trenches for miles around sounding with whispers of the deadened.

Family at home minds spared from war's savage roar.

God, i beg you to let me come back home.

But somewhere in those trenches, i died long ago.
© KV-2-2-2