PORTRAIT OF WAR
Throughout the open grassland,
to chaotic desert sands,
the brave and fair are falling,
as the abode of madness stands.
The cries of suffering, agony, and fear
slices through the sane.
As the shadows grow long from the fall of the sun,
it darkens the land of pain.
From the clamorous thunder you cannot shroud,
of lead and gas it rains,
and with bombshells whistling passed the ear,
the midst of hell remains.
The sickening game of elimination,
is played on the field of war.
Men against men, race against race.
Death is the soul reward.
Yet between the hollowed cries of suffering,
grown men must shed a tear,
as the guns, the hate, and massacres vanish,
for the end of war is near.
The devotion of those who gave their lives,
with the pain, the grief, and sorrow,
stands proud within our hearts and souls,
yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
By: Matt Smith
