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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · War · #1253296
This is a poem I had to make up for my history project on the first world war.
Before I sleep

Through the thundering storm, we trudge,
A dance with fire, a flutter with sludge,
The dawn breaks through, with battered wings,
Upon our faces, and chiselled skins.
Our breathing fast, to match our fear.
No birds do sing, when death is near,
Our hearts unsteady, and tightly bound,
We tumble over and charge the ground,

Shells rain down, among our feet,
Bullets fire, for hearts to meet,
My movements drunk, tired and weak,
Then through silence, my cry does speak,
Time does stop, and fall apart,
A beating drum, upon my heart,
The mud drags up and pulls me deep,
Untruthful pain, my eyes do weep,
And long to go, before I sleep,
So long to go, before I sleep.

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