World War 1 Poem
The sorrow of death blows on me like the chilly wind of night.
The excruciating pain shocks my half broken chest.
With each blow from the enemy’s gun,
A soldier, who I’ve long known is dead.
Why, must god punish us with such misery?
To see our loved ones fall beneath our knees,
Is like the fiery burn from a cup of hot tea.
With screams that start in the morning and onto the night,
The war between us stays as an endless fight.
Here comes the smoking gas filling the air,
It tears us apart just like a bear.
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