On The Western Front

• Spencer Fraumano, Grade 8
• Poetry
• 2013

On the Western Front:
The smoking shells of corpses, laid crumpled in a mound
The crackling sound of flame, the only given sound
Where heroes were made and brothers bonded and victory all around
And all the smell of terror, blood on the muddy ground.

For the men who survived, for what they’ve seen and done
They thought it would be an adventure, a good old bit of fun
But the horrifying things they’ve done here, can never be undone
And no matter how hard they try, they can never hide or run.