We match down ugly and cruel.
The war slip into a horror.
As our souls mere to its shadows.
From the window i could see the desolate pristine war.
A chimera hoarsed in a iron bar.
No hoary sluggish working.
Neither was anyone of us standing and yawning.
We all where men of deadly thoughts.
Men of war
we saw the moon painted red in blood bath
the stats also where scars.
The waters fled
as we rode and yawn with our rods.
In our hearts layer no pleasant thought.
We were rough and tough.
With my eyes looking forward.
I knew its a deadly tour.
As the thunder shouted.
My brother shouted.
Oh''we shall be counted as lords.
We pitched on the quiet sole.
The beautiful island was cladding as we heard a clock
ebi crack and tested its killing lord.
When omogene shouted like a crowd.
I stood waiting the soldiers flutch there slug.
With red tied round my waist.
My eyes fled into danger as i gazed the graced soldiers on there grapes.
Laughing silently at the tough scene.
With its might ogeney.
The a
war wars was greater than the deadly flooded corpse.
We were few in a dreadful atmosphere of dew.
Because when we fight for our crude we fight so rude.
We ruffled there tents as there fear slew them as they pretend.
Victory is ours because we have the power.
Bullets slop scatters
the soldiers scavenged our scheme.
I slog with my slug and killed a sluggard.
On the craft bullets dashing tears.
No man to mourn, no man to fear.
I squashed the soldiers slum and killed some.
Dead was a horror not to tell because the war was hell.
With my machine gun's slug dashing out brains from there heads.
We fenced our tent we despair of a snag.
With the sounds of fired bullets
clad'' clad'''
and the sound of a crack
crack'''crack'' '
i shown down the ground.
As i look around there was few men found,'
no one to sing our song of glory.
No one to long for furry.
By:
Beryl Rem
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