The whistling of wind and
The screaming of shells
The trembling of terrified men
Their fearful faces gazing
Unseeing, at the broken bodies
Lying, twisted, defeated, at their feet
Then silence, save the soft whispering
Breaths of the survivors
The whistling of wind and
The screaming of shells
The noise restarts again
The fearful faces stare up
Unseeing, as their broken bodies
Lie twisted, defeated at God's feet
Then silence, no soft whispering
Not a breath from a survivor
Author notes
War. Obviously. A quick one that I wrote in a Latin lesson. When I wasn't supposed to be writing poetry.
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