Clatter, clatter
Gun shells hit the floor
And gun bullets tear the air
Screaming
Ripping the wind and
Distorting the breeze.
Ten hit a soldier,
An enemy,
And betrayer.
He falls, blood soaking his chest,
Like a disease,
Or a virus.
Dripping, it spreads rapidly to the floor.
His friends fall around him,
Like skittles,
Like cannon-fodder.
Bodies turn to graves and graves turn to dust,
Wild plants, twisting and turning,
As war twists and turns
Leaves lost,
And soldiers lost,
New stem,
And new advances.
Retreats,
Skirmishes,
Infantry,
And territory.
Etched out,
In graves,
In plants,
In the shape of the world.
Gender:
Points: 1890
Reviews: 56