War

• Zara Simiele, Grade 5
• Poetry
• 2017

Thousands of trenches all fill with the same things.
Dead bodies.
I peep over the muddy wall to spot a gun.
Aim our way.
I duck down.
The aroma of gunpowder overpowers the stench of dead bodies.

The bullet goes straight through my mates’ head.
I kneel down in despondency.
Why couldn’t it be me?
Blood has saturated the ground like rain.

I hear a voice.
As I look around I speculate as to how it could be?
It is my mate saying his last words.
CONTINUE, you know I’m going to a better place.
I drown in tears looking around.
The sadness strengthens me.