We traipsed feebly through the harrowing mud.
I have not known hell until this day,
Nor the sweet smell of soldier’s blood,
That blows from where the corpses lay.
The blasts- how I wish they were innocuous!
Perhaps then we may survive.
The land we walk upon is lifeless,
And only assassins thrive.
To forget the world in which I dwell,
I try to reminisce,
On a time when life was jovial,
Not a desolate abyss.
The stutter of the gun shots,
Take both friend and foe in vain.
The thought that here their body rots,
Clefts my heart in twain.
What will I do when I return,
Without my brother by my side?
I swear this “Patriotic Duty”,
Was his suicide.