by Alison Mac

Created on: May 01, 2008

Bodies on the ground, in the mud stained red.
Some are alive but most are dead.
Behind us we hear the shells of battle crash.
As we stumble back through the limbs and ash,
Shrapnel hit us from below and above.
To painful to walk we stagger like the drunk.
Losing our boots and losing blood fast,
Hearing a familiar sound i break in a gasp!
Many men see my horrified stare,
They snatch they're masks and save needed air.
But one mans lungs are clouded and his chest gets tight,
For he didn't see my warning sight.
All that is seen is the greenish smoke,
That grabs my friend as he begins to choke.
I'll never forget, as he fell by my side,
He took my hand and looked deep in my eyes.
How would you feel if you saw him there,
Coughing up blood and gasping for air.
To have held his hand whilst he mournfully sighed,
"Please, God help me. I don't want to die!"
I let go at last, letting the wagon drive him away,
The clouds thickened in the sky, making night from day.
Then in agony he screamed for his Mother,
So i prayed for a quick death.....for my brother!
So i ask you now, is this really grand?
To send all your men to die for their land?
Sorry to my dear mother. For only one son returned,
The other died in action, his body was burned.

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