He left at dawn, her kiss still on his cheek,
Her whispered words a vow they’d never speak.
“Come back,” she’d begged, “when all the fighting’s through.”
But promises are fragile things in view.

The weight of war is heavy, crushing bone,
It steals the light from faces once well-known.
A mother sobs where her young son once stood,
Her hands now clasped in prayer, stained with blood.

The fields, once green, now reek of smoke and death,
The cries of men outlast their final breath.
Each step, a grave, each hill, a silent tomb,
The world reduced to endless shades of gloom.

He sees his friend fall, body torn and still,
The life within him fading 'gainst his will.
“Don’t leave me,” he cries,...