War

• Aylish Love-smithson, Grade 9
• Poetry
• 2018

We’re landing near the western front
Hoping it’s our last battle
Manny are dead already
The noise is louder than a rattle
I grabbed my rations
To have what could be our last feed
Most of us have passion
We want the world to be free
Corpses lie on the field
I will lie with them
I think my fate is sealed
I ask to tell me one?
I ran shooting those who had German colors
But it was hard to tell
The sound got crueller
But then I fell