War

• Thomas Carroll, Grade 5
• Poetry
• 2016

The sound of bullets flying past my ear,
The screams and groans makes it hard to hear,
Although I am safe down in the fields,
The battle in my mind is hard to yield,
Even I the Master of this war,
Try harder and harder to unlock the door,
The door that holds secrets,
The door of this time,
Cannot be opened with a simple rhyme,
So forth I must go and win this war,
For I am the one that shall open this door.