Soldiers Day

 

 

Decaying feet!

Grotesque like a vile tumour.... agonizing pain mounting by the seconds.

Hobbling through the bitter icy winds, which slice through our skin savagely?

Behind me men are stifling from fatigue, disappearing into the bomb cluttered fields.

 

The Warfield is like a macabre nightmare,

where the rumbling sounds of grumbling guns surround us;

and barbaric bombs spiral through the fog filled sky,

to land harshly on the shaken grounds.

 

 Shrill and despairing;

we are trapped in this bleak chaos,

 only to wither away.

The sunset painted a melancholy crimson with a thousand soldiers’ blood.