Nothings sacred, <br />There is no glory, <br />Just daily shock and awe. <br />No imagination, <br />Just wringing emotion, <br />I suffer this impersonal war. <br /> <br />Preservation, obligation, <br />Waiting in the night, <br />Fear consuming, rockets booming, <br />Future not too bright. <br /> <br />I have no time for idle cares, <br />Blood shot eyes, vacant stares. <br />A thousand voices, unearthly groans, <br />Ungodly, battle noises droan. <br /> <br />Days burn hot, nights much colder, <br />Breathing faint, I feel much older. <br />Nervous faces, jaws clenched tight, <br />Tired bodies have to fight. <br /> <br />All existence has no meaning in this war, <br />A few more months, I can close this door.<br /><br />Philip Lore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-soldiers-impersonal-war/
