Their screams of pain echo in my ears, <br />from the left of me, from the right, straight in front of me. <br />There is nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide, <br />I cannot wake, for this is not a dream, <br />this is war. This is very real. <br /> <br />The bullets whizz overhead, as I am deep in the trench, <br />the sickly sweet smell of blood is all around, <br />for, the blood is all around, it is where we walk, <br />it is where we sleep, it is where we fight. <br /> <br />I feel more tense now, though i could not have imagined it, <br />Soon, I am told, I will be 'going over the top' <br />Going to sort the Gerry's, the Hun's, the enemy. <br />'Dont worry, boy' they tell me. We're going to win. <br />How can they be so sure i ask myself? <br />18 and sent to my empty, nameless grave <br />In war, there is only one winner. <br />Death.<br /><br />Steve Armstrong<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/war-10/
